


The Shaman-Born and the Scholar

by GKMasterson



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Not beta'd we die like men, The Crystal Tower, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 260,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GKMasterson/pseuds/GKMasterson
Summary: A slow-burn romance following the storyline of The Crystal Tower, Heavensward, Stormblood, and Shadowbringers.T'lorna Zhiki, a shaman-born Miqo'te, vanished during the Battle of Carteneau. Five years later, she re-appears and finds herself on the path to becoming the Warrior of Light. She befriends and joins the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and finds love with a man who will forever alter the path of her life: G'raha Tia.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 232
Kudos: 196





	1. Return and Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna shook her head slowly to clear it. Just a short time ago, she’d been on the field at Carteneau with the great moon Dalmud crashing down upon her and the primal Bahamut unleashing its fearsome power upon everyone. The dragon’s screams had nearly deafened her and she’d dropped to her knees, her hands coming up to press her ears against her head as her tail lashed around her. Then, she’d felt a strange kind of shielding spring up around her and the sounds of battle had grown dim. And now she found herself on the outskirts of Gridania wondering idly just _how_ she’d gotten here and how much trouble she would be in for invading the woodlands. After all, her tribe kept mostly to the islands around La Noscea and, though relations had warmed somewhat with the Hyur and Elezen of Gridania, the T tribe of the Miqo’te were hardly welcome in the Shroud.

Shrugging and deciding to just walk into the forest city, T’lorna glanced up at the sky and then did a double-take when she did not see the fiery glow of Dalmud bearing down on the world. For nearly a year the sight of the moon had grown larger and larger in the sky as the Garleans, using their magitek, drew it down to strike at Eorzea. But now, it was simply… _gone_. She could see Mephina but not Dalmud. She could also see a distinct lack of militancy around her. The last time she’d passed through Gridanian territory while helping the Circle of Knowing, soldiers had been everywhere. Now the road was empty and only the gates of the city were guarded.

Shrugging again to herself as she tried to ignore her growing discomfort, she stepped into the city to see what she could learn of the strange new world in which she found herself.

~*~*~*~

 _Five years?_ It had been _five years_ since the Battle of Carteneau? How had this happened? T’lorna sat on the bed in the inn, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs with her tail twitching in anxiety behind her. She’d spent the day working with the Conjurer’s Guild, dealing with the arrogant little Hyur girl Sophie, running errands for various Gridanians, and overall just trying to figure out how she’d wound up moving through time so quickly. For her, the battle at Carteneau had been _yesterday_. She’d been right next to the “Warriors of Light” as people called them. For her, they’d just been her friends.

“Is it possible that they have also returned?” she whispered to herself. “Could they be wandering the roads around Limsa Lominsa, Ul’dah, or lost in the Twelveswoods wondering just how in the name of creation they came to be here? Wait, my father…” she trailed off, her voice growing hoarse as she thought about all of the innocents killed when Dalmud had exploded and Bahamut had been freed. “My sisters and brothers… My cousins and aunts and uncles… My _people_ ,” she hissed, leaping off the bed, her ears laid back and her tail stiff with fear. “Did they survive? Or will I walk into a graveyard?”

There was only one way to find out. Eventually her errands would take her to La Noscea and she would make visiting the tribe’s lands a priority. Until then, she had to stay close to Gridania and work on earning enough gil to take care of herself while supplementing her diet with whatever she could glean from the forest.

~*~*~*~

 _Being a Scion is worth the trouble_ , T’lorna wrote in her journal. She liked to pretend that she was writing to her father, the nunh of the T tribe. _It makes me glad that you suggested I leave for a while and explore the world. Though I wish I hadn_ _’t gotten lost during the battle at Carteneau and missed five years with you, I don’t regret a moment beyond that. I don’t know if you heard about the fight with Ifrit but it wasn’t nearly as bad as most people make it out to be. The truth is, yes, I fought the primal alone but he was pretty weak compared to what I’d been expecting. He tried to temper me — that’s what primals do to force people to serve them — but I was shielded from that by this Blessing of Light called the Echo. I’m not certain what exactly it is — I’m considering going to visit Sharlayan to see if any of the groups there have studied it. I do know that it gives me power, strength, stamina, and the ability to understand any language. I’ll still never forget the shock after I received the first Crystal of Light and woke up to discover I could read the writing on the lucky coin you gave me. You were right, Papa: it is from Allag!_

T’lorna found herself smiling and chuckling softly to herself as she continued to write about her adventures. She thought, idly, about leaving her journal with her father before she went off to face down Titan but decided that she would rather keep it with her. Still, she had already talked with Y’shtola about taking a day to visit with her tribe before she went to face down the kobolds’ god and the Scions had agreed that T’lorna had earned at least a few hours to herself.

The airship came to a stop and T’lorna sprinkled pounce on the pages of her journal before closing it, tucking it into her satchel, and leaving the airship to step into the white-stone city of Limsa Lominsa.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna gazed down upon her tribal village from her favorite vantage point — the limbs of the tallest tree near the entrance gate. She could see her sisters tending to the animals and the gardens while her brothers, the Tias, repaired houses, made furniture, helped with the smallest children, or did other heavy chores. Meanwhile, her father sat in the council stones with a bevy of young daughters around him, lecturing them on the laws of their people and their tribe. T’lorna couldn’t help but smile at remembering how T’zhiki Nuhn had always made the lore and history sound like a story.

Then, as if her thoughts reached his ears, she saw him turn and glance up at her hiding spot. A bright smile lit his face and he waved the youngsters away, standing up and walking over to the trunk of the tree.

“Whether spirit or flesh,” he shouted up to her, “I bid thanks to Azeyma the Warden that my lost little shaman-born has returned to her people.”

T’lorna grinned and clambered down from her perch. She threw her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him tightly. He looked older, his hair had a little more gray in it and his face a few more lines, but he was still alive.

“Azeyma be praised,” he whispered as he clutched her close to him, “after five years, my little shaman-born has come home in truth. And you look exactly as you did five years ago,” he added as he stepped back, holding her by her upper arms with his arms extended so he could study her properly. “It is as if time has not passed for you.”

“Well, Papa,” she said, gnawing her lower lip with her teeth and looking everywhere except his eyes. “It’s a long story. But, for me, no time has passed. Just a few weeks ago, I was fighting the Garlean forces at Carteneau and then being deafened by Bahamut’s screams. Then, the next thing I knew, I was standing outside of Gridania in the Shroud.”

“And now your wandering steps bring you back where you belong,” her father sighed. “We will talk more — I will hear all of your tales over supper tonight. Your brothers and uncles will build up your house again and you can assume the duties of shaman after a full cycle of moons. Unless, of course, you feel the need to continue to wander the world learning more of its mysteries and communing with the spirits of nature?”

“I am not ready to stop my travels,” she sighed as she hugged her father again. “There is much to do, beginning with defeating Titan.”

“Titan!” her father said, his blue eyes — tinted and shaped almost exactly like hers — widening in shock. “What does my little shaman-born have to do with the primal god of the beastly kobolds?”

“Well…” she said, wincing and dry-washing her hands. “That’s actually a good place to start this incredibly long story.”

“Come, then, my little star-watcher,” he laughed as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began pulling her towards the hut he shared with her mother, his first wife. “Your mother will want to hear of your journeys as well.”

~*~*~*~

T’zhiki watched his little shaman-born sleep. She was curled up on the mat in her room, the room with the ceiling that was painted to look like the night sky. She slept as she had since childhood — curled up on her side, her arms in front of her, her tail curled over her waist. He could have watched her sleep all night had he not been tired himself.

“Working with Louisoix to try to stop Meteor,” he whispered to her sleeping form, “getting swept up in some spell and carried forward five years in time. Becoming a conjurer of some renown, fighting Ifrit on her own, wandering the depths of mines, dungeons, and other forsaken haunts… my little shaman-born star-watcher will be a force to be reckoned with. Too bad that we told that Tia we’d found for you that you were dead,” he sighed. “He was the only man I think you would have been happy with. Ah, well, in days to come, when you are ready to be wedded, I’ll contact his tribe and make the offer again. Until then, fight your battles and learn to use the gifts you’ve been granted by the Twelve and know that you will always have a home here, my daughter.”


	2. Fateful Meetings in Mor Dhona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus for getting ten kudos in a week! Here's the next chapter where our two main characters are set on the trajectory to meet. I wonder how that will go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

_Dear Papa,_ T’lorna wrote as she sat, leaning against a shady tree in Mor Dhona. _It_ _’s been difficult, lately. I know I haven’t written much since I sent that message to let you know I was still alive following the attack on the Waking Sands. I didn’t dare to send you any letters after that lest they trace me to you and use you and the tribe to force me to give myself up. And I couldn’t do that. There was too much left to do even after Titan fell. The Ascians — I told you about them, didn’t I? If not, just know that they are bad people who live forever and are fiendishly difficult to kill — have been making problems for us for a while. We suspect they had a hand in the last Calamity and are gearing up for another._

 _But why have them so close together? That confuses me. We’re not certain what the Calamities are other than ‘a lot of people dying at the same time and civilization getting reset’ but if the Ascians just wanted to kill a lot of people, they could do it much more effectively and efficiently than with Calamities. Plagues, diseases, famine, war… Why call down a_ **_moon_ ** _of all things?_

_At any rate, enough meandering. I wound up spending a lot of time in Coerthas which, as you would expect, is so very, very cold. I cannot over-emphasize how cold it is. The people are nice enough, I suppose, once you get past their frosty exteriors. I actually have gotten to be friends with several of them. They’re all Elezen, by the way, and Ishgardian. Haurchefant is the best of them. He’s the kind who would accept an invitation to one of our bonfires and not complain at all about getting splashed. Some of the others are just as nice: Portelaine, Drillemont, and a few others. They’re just very stiff-necked and very obsessed with serving the Fury, Halone._

_Anyhow, we did a lot to prove ourselves worthy of getting information on Cid Garlond’s old ship. I guess I should tell you about that, too. Cid is a Garlean who defected and came to Eorzea and fought against the Empire. He lost his memory after Carteneau but he’s got it back now and remembers that he is a really good engineer. He built an airship called the Enterprise which crashed in Coerthas after the Calamity. We managed to get it back after fighting the dragon that was napping in front of it — the dragon that the Ascian Lahabrea decided to wake up to kill me — and then got back to Gridania where Cid and Alphinaud worked on repairing it while I went everywhere in Eorzea looking for the right kind of corrupted crystal to use to negate Garuda’s barrier. That was actually more fun than it should have been because I got to meet all of these scholars loosely connected with the Students of Baldesion. I wonder if, after everything is done here, I could go to Sharlayan and study with them. There are so many different scholarly groups there…_

_Again, enough with the digressions! We managed to get the airship back and to overcome Garuda. I received a Crystal of Light from her and wound up communing with Hydaelyn herself. From there, we decided to rescue the kidnapped Scions from where they were being held in Mor Dhona at Castrum Centri. We managed to get them back but learned that the reason the Garleans had been able to break into the Waking Sands so easily was because Thancred was one of them. Or rather, he had been possessed by one of them. The poor man had been driving himself to exhaustion as punishment for Louisoix’s death and that left him weak and vulnerable to the Crystals of Darkness that the Ascians use to take control of a host._

_While all this was going on, the Garleans had found this ancient Allagan machine called Ultima Weapon. It **ate** primals. Like literally. I watched it consume Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda, absorbing their powers. Well, of course we had to go destroy it once we’d gotten the Scions back. So, we worked with the leadership of the Eorzean Alliance to bring down the different Castra so that the Garleans wouldn’t be able to keep the Ultima Weapon under such heavy protection. I led the group that attacked Castrum Meridianum and then entered the Praetorium where Ultima Weapon was housed. We managed to overcome the thing — even after Lahabrea showed up and used the power it held to unleash a spell held in the Heart of Sabik, Ultima. Hydaelyn shielded us from the explosion that devastated the entire region. After that, we destroyed Ultima Weapon and then fought Lahabrea himself. With Hydaelyn’s help, we were able to shatter the Crystal of Darkness that held Lahabrea’s soul and free Thancred from Ascian control. _

_There’s going to be a big banquet here in Mor Dhona to celebrate everything. I hope that you will be able to come. I’d love to see you and the Tias since I know that the women will not want to drag the kits up here. It would mean a lot to me to have my Papa here. Also, there’s this great archaeological and historical excavation going on at a place called Saint Coinach’s Find. Now that I’m not busy with more pressing matters, I’ve been planning to see what I can do to help them with excavating the Crystal Tower. It’s supposed to be a remnant of the Allagan Empire. If nothing else, with the Echo, I should be able to read the books that have been locked up inside of it for who knows how long!_

_Your loving shaman-born,_

_T’lorna_

~*~*~*~

T’zhiki smiled as he looked at the letter. He had not gotten word in time to make the trip up to Mor Dhona for the celebration. However, the Admiral herself had sent a gift to the tribe and a letter thanking T’zhiki for gifting the world with the Warrior of Light. He had written a quick response, apologizing for his absence and giving her his blessing to travel where she would in pursuit of knowledge. _My little shaman-born_ , he grinned to himself. _So unlike your sisters. You **befriended** the animals instead of hunting them. You could tell me their stories and tell them true. The forest and shores sang to you in a way that no one else could hear. Even the stars seemed to speak to you. Sharlayan will be perfect for you. Maybe I’ll contact the Gryphon tribe again about you marrying with their son. Like as not, he’ll be the only man who could pass the trial I’ve set for any who wish to wed my little star-watcher. _

~*~*~*~

 _G_ _’raha Tia,_

_I trust this missive finds you well. Probably buried in books as you usually are. I know you’ve been content to hide yourself away in study ever since the Calamity but I think it’s time you gave over your reading and joined us in a little historical research here in Mor Dhona. Yes, Mor Dhona. In Eorzea. A Garlean defector and the man behind Garlond Ironworks, Cid nan Garlond, is heading up an expedition to catalog, explore, and study the Allagan ruins and artifacts scattered throughout the area. Already the outpost we’re based out of, Saint Coinach’s Find, has become quite the way-point for the adventurous. I know that you’ve decided to remain a Tia for all that your father says you have to carry on the lineage but I quite think you’d do better to get out of your head and your books and try living a little._

_Also, you are the foremost expert on Allagan civilization. We need you down here, G’raha. Who knows? Maybe you’ll hit it off with one of the other researchers we have here and you’ll finally get over losing your future wife in the Calamity._

_Yours in friendship,_

_Rammbroes_

G’raha Tia perused the letter again with a sigh. His unstrung bow lay leaning against the cabin wall behind him and the scent of salt in the air gave him comfort and peace.

“You really don’t understand, my friend,” the Miqo’te whispered to the letter as he folded it up and tucked it into an inner pocket in his vest. “I was never that upset about her dying. I never got to meet her. I was upset about the death of the hopes I’d had for when I finally would have met her. No woman can compare to the fantasy I’ve built up in my head about what my future wife would have been like. And the damnedest thing is; I don’t even know her name. Just that she was from the Condor tribe in La Noscea. I suppose that if I get lonely enough, my father would try to find another bride for me. But she still wouldn’t compare.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he walked over to look past the ship’s railing. The coast of Thanalan was coming into view in the distance. He’d be disembarking at Vesper Bay and then making his way through Thanalan to Mor Dhona where he’d meet up with Rammbroes at this Saint Coinach’s Find. The region was distressingly close to the fields of Carteneau. Perhaps he should visit the site of that battle and pay his respects?

Wait.

Cid?

Cid nan Garlond?

_Cid nan Garlond was alive?_

“But he was lost after Carteneau!” G’raha Tia shouted as he pressed his hand against the pocket where the letter rustled. “Then perhaps… perhaps _she_ still lives as well. Maybe this is the best time to come to Eorzea, ” he gasped with excitement. “Perhaps I will be lucky enough to find her. Maybe I should head for La Noscea and visit her tribe. They might have word of her.” Almost, he strode to the ship’s bridge to ask if they were planning to head to that island nation next but, instead, he decided against it. First, he would prove himself an expert in Allagan history, learn a bit more about his own heritage, and _then_ he would seek out the Condor tribe to see if the wife waiting for him among had miraculously re-appeared.

~*~*~*~

"G'raha Tia!" Rammbroes said, his voice booming out across the encampment known as Saint Coinach's Find and his dusky face brightening. "I'm glad you've finally arrived."

"I came as soon as I got your letter," G'raha said, waving the parchment. "How goes the expedition thus far?"

"Barely started, truth be told," Rammbroes admitted. "We have hired an adventurer to help speed the process up."

“What do you mean you hired an adventurer?” G’raha Tia hissed as he tried to comprehend just what Rammbroes was telling him. “Cid figures out a way past the Eight Sentinels and instead of sending someone trustworthy, you just call in the nearest sell-sword and send them on their way? After, of course, telling them enough that they know just how valuable the things are and how rare. Meaning that this person knows just how much to fence them for!”

“Cid trusts her,” Rammbroes said with that irritatingly distressing calm. “He thinks of her almost like a younger sister. Maybe the daughter he never had. Besides, you’ll like her. Her head is up in the clouds just as much as yours is. I can still remember watching her with my heart in my throat as she clambered over every last one of the Allagan ruins in the area. There was a betting pool over how many she would climb before she finally lost her footing and fell to her death.”

“And who is this elite among adventurers?” G’raha Tia muttered sullenly. “Some noble paladin out to prove herself worthy? A black mage looking for the next level of destructive magic? An arcanist searching for obscure facts to hide in their grimoire?”

“A white mage who really does believe that freedom and healing will come through technology and history. The Warrior of Light. Hydaelyn’s Chosen. A woman who might finally have you working to be the most intelligent person in the crowd.”

“Well, where is this paragon, then?” G’raha Tia asked after a moment’s pause.

“She came by here to drop off the first three stones before heading to Coerthas for the last one,” Rammbroes replied. “She left just about a half-hour ago. I imagine she’ll stop by to let Lord Hauchefant know she’s in the area. You might be able to scour Natalan and find the crystal yourself.”

“Or watch our adventurer in action,” G’raha Tia nodded. “I’ll be back shortly, my friend.”


	3. The Crystal Tower Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, our two heroes finally meet. Will sparks fly? Read and find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything from FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna stared in awe at the soaring spires of the Crystal Tower. It loomed high above the crystalline mountains of Mor Dhona, sparkling in the sunlight and shining in the moonlight. To think that she was going to be part of the group that would finally make their way into the Allagan creation.

Provided, of course, that she could gather up the necessary crystals to get past the Tower’s formidable defenses. She’d managed to get the earth, fire, and water crystals easily enough but navigating Natalan was the true test of her endurance. She wanted nothing more than to simply return to Camp Dragonhead and curl up in front of the hearth in the quarters Haurchefant had given her. Coerthas had nearly been her undoing when she’d been struggling through it to rescue the Enterprise — she had _never_ liked the cold — but she’d managed to soldier through. Even now when she’d managed to purchase the best Ironworks armor and have it imbued with a spell to counter extremes of temperate — a treat she’d promised herself after her last trip to Coerthas — it barely took the edge off.

“The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back to Cid in Mor Dhona where it’s warmer than here,” she muttered to herself with teeth that chattered wildly. She trudged, head-down, through the snow, bracing herself against the icy wind.

She glanced over her shoulder, half-convinced that someone was _watching_ her. She tried to ignore the feeling; the Ixal were more likely to attack outright once they were aware of her than they were to watch patiently as she penetrated more deeply into their territory. Still, she could not shake the feeling that there were eyes on her. Whirling around as quickly as she could, she thought she spied a shock of red in the distance. Squinting and growling softly at the whirling white snow that obscured her sight, she ground her teeth together in irritation. Whatever it was, she’d deal with it once she’d gained the crystal.

Another few minutes saw her quickly battling with the Ixali guardian and wresting the perfectly-formed crystal from the beast-man. She felt somewhat guilty at murdering the creature; she’d become good friends with several Ixali in the North Shroud. Still, the Sons of Saint Coinach needed the crystal to get past the guardians so that they could explore the Crystal Tower, uncover its secrets, and then do whatever was necessary to keep it out of the hands of the Garleans or anyone else who might misuse it.

“Forgive me, child of the land,” she whispered to the corpse as she knelt beside it, entering a meditative state. The cold no longer bothered her. “Forgive me your death at my hand. May you learn from your mistakes in this life and be reborn wiser. Pray that I do as well.”

Satisfied that the soul of the Ixal was making its way to the Aetherial Sea, T’lorna rose and headed back towards Mor Dhona, glancing up at the rocky outcrop overhead and wondering if she really had seen a flash of red.

~*~*~*~

“Gods,” G’raha gasped as he ducked behind a rocky outcropping. He was glad of the chilly weather; it helped to keep his blood from boiling. “Rammbroes neglected to tell me she was gorgeous. What is she doing?” he wondered as he watched her squat down next to the Ixal she’d just slain. She seemed to stroke the creature as if she were sorry she had killed it. The way her golden honey-blonde tail curled around her protectively spoke of feelings of guilt. Part of him wanted to rush down the snowy hill and wrap his arms around her hunched shoulders. But she was the Warrior of Light. She did not need some gawky scholar with a strangely sanguine eye fawning over her. Like as not, she had the attention of wealthier, handsomer, and more interesting men than him. He would never stand a chance of being anything more than a passing acquaintance to someone like her.

Still, perhaps he could do something to make himself memorable to her. Returning to Mor Dhona, he smiled when he learned that Cid would need aethersand to polish and refine the crystals. He promised to go and seek out the water and wind-aspected aethersand while the Warrior of Light would seek out the earth- and fire-aspected sands. Perhaps, when he returned with his share of the sand, he would be able to speak with her without embarrassing himself.

~*~*~*~

He’d been tracking the boar for days now. How it had come to appoint itself the guardian of water-aspected ore, he did not know. Still, it was his best bet for finally getting the aethersand.

 _Rammbroes must be worried sick_ , he thought to himself as he walked along the branches of the trees, trotting lightly and carefully. _Gridania is a lovely place for my kind of hunting_ , he added with a smile. _So many big trees._

“There!” he laughed to himself as he plucked an arrow from his quiver and fired on the boar, dropping it with a single shot. He swung his bow over his back and then leapt down from the branch to splash through the shallow creek towards his prize. Using his trusty hammer and pick-ax to work free a hunk of the ore, he pocketed the large stone in his satchel, and then strapped his mining tools back to his belt. He started to take the forest path back towards Quarrymill where he could retrieve his chocobo to ride back to the Find when he heard footsteps coming towards him. His ears perked forward and he smiled when he realized that the person was still some distance away. Running and jumping to climb back up one of the thickly-leaved trees, he hid in waiting to see if Rammbroes had sent the beautiful adventurer out to find him.

It took all of G’raha’s willpower not to laugh in triumph when the woman approached the fallen boar. Seen in the full light of the sun, she was even more gorgeous than he’d thought. Her tail waved easily behind her and her long golden hair was swept up and pulled back in an elegant manner, falling down to her shoulder-blades like a glorious honey-wheat waterfall. Her ears twitched back and forth, their fur neatly brushed. Idly, he wondered what it would be like to caress them, to nibble lightly on them. A blush at his boldness spread over his face and he took several deep breaths while reciting the most complicated aetheric equations he could remember to calm himself down. After all, he was no rake or scoundrel. He had not been raised to be so coarse as to fondle some strange woman’s ears or to…

“Calm down,” he whispered to himself. “Remember, she could have any man she wanted and I have nothing to offer her. Nothing except…” he grinned to himself, his hand patting the satchel where the ore lay as an idea sprang into his mind.

“You are too late, adventurer — and not only for the entertainment. You will find no trace of the ore which but recently lay here. Nay, not so much as a speck. Ah...no. You will never spy me from there,” he added when he saw her begin looking through the trees for him. He managed to restrain a nervous giggle when he saw just how brilliantly blue her eyes were. Oh, he could compose sonnets and songs about her ocean-deep eyes! “For the time being at least, you will have to trust the evidence of your ears.” Beautiful ears which were now perked towards him. “Now stop squinting at the foliage and listen. As I told you, the water-blessed mineral you hoped to find is gone — taken by me. Victory has made me magnanimous, however. Accordingly, I have decided to share the location of an _alternative_ source of aethersand with you — the wind-touched variety, to be specific. I trust I have your attention? Good. A band of Ixal in the North Shroud keeps a quantity of the abrasive for the purpose of removing impurities from lesser crystals. Well? Do you mean to dally here all day? Make haste, adventurer, before I snatch another prize from under your nose! This is to be a _race_. The Ixali logging grounds in the North Shroud shall be our destination. And that is where the _real_ amusement will begin. May the best man win!” He waited until she whistled, a high, trilling sound that made him shiver at its beauty and clarity. Within seconds, her chocobo, a golden-feathered bird that seemed oddly protective of his rider, ran up. She mounted and rode off. Only once he was certain she was gone did G’raha Tia gather his wits enough to travel through the aether to Quarrymill where he could retrieve his own mount and take a short-cut to beat her to the location of the wind-touched aethersand.

~*~*~*~

As she rode off towards North Shroud, T’lorna wondered if the speaker in Urth’s Gift had been the same one she’d thought she had seen watching her in Coerthas. Whoever he was, he seemed amused with her. She wasn’t certain if she were delighted with or irritated by that. Over the course of the past year, she had moved far beyond the woman-child she had been when she’d first returned to Eorzea from wherever it was she had been. She’d fought and killed, seen death come to those she cared about, faced betrayal and despair, survived impossible odds, and brought hope to the hopeless. She’d gone from being a no-name adventurer whose only real accomplishment was being, as her father called her, shaman-born to being the Warrior of Light. She’d had immortal Ascians toy with her, threaten her, and harm her friends.

This mysterious voice _could_ be in that same vein.

She shook her head. The speaker sounded too… too much like her. During the past year, it had not all been doom and gloom. She and Thancred had played pranks on the taciturn Urianger. She and Y’shtola and tried to get Minfilia and Thancred to admit that they were head over heels for each other. The speaker, whoever he was, sounded more playful than mean-spirited. So, she decided she would play his game. She would race him for the aethersand and see where this led.

~*~*~*~

G’raha Tia almost missed getting to the location in time. By the time he’d finally managed to clamber up atop the cliffs and had spied the aethersand, the Warrior, his new inspiration, was already at the Ixali camp and had steadily made her way through the ranks to the altar where the beastmen kept the aethersand. He gulped down some air and forced his voice to remain steady as he watched her, waiting for the perfect moment to present itself. When she hefted the pouch of wind-aspected aethersand and then glanced around, plainly looking for him, he grinned and spoke up.

“Bravo! That was quite a show, adventurer! Why, the spectacle proved so enthralling that all thoughts of aethersand slipped my mind. I appear to have forfeited our little race! Congratulations — the wind-touched abrasive is yours,” he said, delighted at the way she seemed to relax slightly. “And yet, having been treated to such a memorable performance, I cannot help feeling that the greater prize is mine. This inequity must not stand. I _insist_ that you accept a token of my appreciation. Payment for this entertainment will be waiting for you to the east, in a clearing within Proud Creek. Pray retrieve the gift ere it is crushed beneath the iron feet of the dullahans!”

Hurrying off in the direction from which he’d come, he found the hiding spot he’d scouted earlier and gazed down at the makeshift table he’d put together. Several dullahans patrolled the area mindlessly. As he waited for the Warrior to make her appearance, he wondered idly if the dullahans were part of some older civilization. There seemed to be nothing Allagan about them; they were inelegant creations. They were also not purely mechanical which ruled out Garlemald as their home. Perhaps something else?

Before he could get much lost in thought, the Warrior arrived. She avoided most of the dullahans but the pair near the altar had to be dealt with before she could reach the “prize” he’d left for her. When she finished off the second of the pair of clanging, metal men she glanced at the stone table and then shrugged before going over to inspect the fallen dullahan more thoroughly. He twitched his ears, perking them forward so he could hear what she was muttering.

“…dissipates like we do so it’s clearly alive and not mechanical. I wonder if Cid…”

 _Be still my beating heart. Is she **also** a scholar? A fine addition to the Students of Baldesion she would be. I would show her through all of the libraries and alcoves. In the winter, we could_ _…_ G’raha forced himself away from such thoughts. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke out, his voice carrying through the forested hills to the Warrior of Light.

“Not what you were expecting? I took the liberty of refining the ore from Urth's Gift into aethersand. Do keep it safe, adventurer,” he added teasingly. When she glanced around, her face filled with a twinge of annoyance and amusement, he continued. “Lest you accuse me of playing games, you should know that the thought of relinquishing my prize never once crossed my mind — until I saw you in action. Such deeds must needs be rewarded. It is my vocation, you see, to record history as it is made by mortal men,” _and women as fair as you,_ he added to himself. “And I much prefer to chronicle the accomplishments of the bold and the mighty. Thus, it is my fervent wish that you continue your career with the same courage and zeal you have shown today. We shall meet again, adventurer — and sooner than you may imagine.”

With that, he hurried off to make his way back to Saint Coinach’s Find so he could wait for the beautiful white mage to arrive.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed and stretched as she dismounted from her chocobo, giving the desert gold bird a fond pat before sending him off to the stables until she called for him again. Rammbroes stood in front of his tent, his dark face brightening when he saw her walking over to him.

“What news of your mission? Are we any closer to acquiring the remaining abrasives?” T’lorna grinned as she reached down to her belt pouch and plucked out the two heavier-than-they-looked sacks of sand. “You brought both!?” Rammbroes yelped in happy surprise. “I shall have Master Garlond begin work on the crystals immediately.”

T’lorna nodded and began craning her neck around, wondering if the stranger who had helped her acquire those last two sacks of sand was about or if he was simply some eccentric wanderer who gathered up aethersand for his own purposes and that she might never see him again, no matter what he promised. When Rammbroes hefted the two sacks and carried them over to another tent where the Garlean engineer waited.

“Ah, good. T’lorna, you’re back,” Cid nodded as he took the last two sacks of aethersand. He had already finished the first two crystals, carving and sanding them into fangs which now glimmered in the dappled shade. The last two fangs did not bear that same shining quality but were still a sight to behold. Cid took some sand from the pouch, spread it over a clean cloth, and then placed the first fang in it. He rubbed the crystal down, stopping every so often to check his progress. Finally, after several hours, he finished both.

“There, that should do it!” Cid said triumphantly. His near-shout made T’lorna jump in fright from where she had been sitting, propped up against a crystalline rock, reading.

“Excellent work!” Rammbroes said as he carefully inspected each of the four fang-shaped crystals. “We now possess all four of the ‘fangs’ required to pierce the Crystal Tower’s defenses. My compliments, Master Garlond!”

“It was nothing. T’lorna’s the one we should all be thanking; she fetched the sand and the crystals both. Now that that’s done, there’s nothing stopping up from striding right up to the Allagan’s front door!”

“Not without us, Chief!” came two voices and a pair of feet pounding down the road. T’lorna glanced up to see Biggs and Wedge racing up to the camp.

“Come to lend a hand, have you?” Cid quipped.

“Well, it’s not every day you get the chance to study the wonders of the Allagan Empire, is it? There technology makes _Garlemald_ _’s_ look ancient!” Biggs panted.

Cid looked somewhat ill-at-ease at Biggs’s words. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, lads. I really do. But we’re not here to take this knowledge for ourselves. Twice in the last decade, the promise of unimaginable power has prompted men to meddle with technology they do not understand and the realm has been dragged unto the very brink of oblivion on both occasions. We shall not be so irresponsible as to risk another. Wedge, what is our company’s creed?”

“Freedom through Technology, Chief!” the Lalafell replied.

“Exactly. Freedom. When we forsook our homeland, we swore that we would have no truck with machines that could be used to promote tyranny. That has not changed. Should you feel tempted to break your oath, remember this: the wonders of the all-knowing Allagan Empire could not save their civilization and have damn near doomed ours. Twice. That is why we must explore the Crystal Tower and, if needs be, seal away its secrets for the future.”

“A compelling viewpoint,” came a familiar voice. T’lorna found herself setting her book aside and standing up to look at the speaker. A handsome Miqo’te man with shining red hair and a bushy red tail that swished and flicked confidently behind him stood atop the scaffolding rising around them. He wore a sleeveless vest in red and black over white leather pants that tucked down into black boots. “It is unyielding wills such as yours that have defined the course of history.”

“So, you return at last. What, pray tell, has kept you so wholly preoccupied that you could not spare a moment to inform me of your progress? Or your preservation?” Rammbroes growled in the tone of an old scold. With that, the mysterious hunter with the familiar voice leapt from the scaffolding to land just a few feet away from T’lorna. She noted that he had a bow slung across his back and bowyer’s gloves covered his hands up to his elbows. A white-platinum gorget protected his throat and partially hid the tattoos that proclaimed status as an Archon. The eye etched into his arm declared him a Student of Baldesion. When he drew close enough for T’lorna to glimpse his face, she sucked in a hissing breath. His red hair fell in longish spiking waves across his face, partially obscuring one red eye while leaving the other sky-blue one clear.

“Why, the task you assigned to me, of course,” the man said, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture. “Surely you have not forgotten about the aethersand? I tasked a passing adventurer with delivering it. A more capable courier, I could not imagine,” he added, bowing slightly towards T’lorna with a smile. T’lorna felt her heart pounding and could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She prayed that her face had not turned red, giving her away. “Greetings, adventurer!” he quipped. “Did I not say we would meet again? I believe an introduction is in order. I am G’raha Tia, one of the Students of Baldesion,” he continued, his voice pitched low for her ears only and his gaze settling on her alone. “I look forward to joining you on your ground-breaking expedition.”

“G’raha Tia has been assigned to the project as an observer,” Rammbroes explained. “I hope you will forgive him his…eccentricities and welcome him as one of our own.”

“And you are?” G’raha said as he leaned in closer to her.

“T’lorna,” she replied softly. “T’lorna Zhiki.”

“So then, our fellowship is complete and all stand ready to step into the unknown!” G’raha Tia laughed as he bowed politely towards T’lorna. “Three cheers for NOAH!”

“Noah?” Cid asked with a slight cough that T’lorna thought might be hiding a laugh.

“That is the name I have chosen for our little collective. Given our differing backgrounds, we cannot very well call ourselves the _Sons_ of Saint Coinach, can we?” he winked at T’lorna. “And we must have a memorable appellation if our venture is to leave its mark on the annals of history. I could claim that NOAH stands for ‘Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical,’ and so it does. _Technically._ But my _true_ reason for choosing this name stems from the fact that it is shared by a vaunted Allagan archmagus.”

T’lorna found herself smiling softly as she listened to the reactions to the name. She herself thought it a fine, if odd, name. Still, if it came from Allagan history, then it was fitting.

“Come,” he said, gesturing for her to walk with him, “let us head to the Eight Sentinels together. I wish to learn more about the adventurer I observed in Gridania.”

“And I wish to hear more about the Sharlayan scholar Rammbroes was so worried about,” T’lorna whispered softly, not trusting her voice. She had never before found a man so appealing and she feared making a fool of herself in front of the handsome man. “Let us walk together and talk?”

“That sounds like a fine plan to me,” G’raha Tia said with a bright smile. “A fine plan indeed.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha Tia nearly laughed out loud when the Warrior of Light, T’lorna, agreed to walk with him to the Crystal Tower. He spoke the truth when he said he wanted to get to know her better. After all, stories of her adventures had made their way up to the Sharlayan homeland. His own father had written him a letter beseeching him to seek out the warrior and see if she was a member of the Condor tribe and had word of his once-promised bride. However, now that he was in her presence, he did not want to think about another woman. Instead, he wanted to focus on the one walking next to him.

“So, T’lorna. Condor tribe?” He almost slapped himself at how nervous and awkward he sounded.

“Born and raised,” she agreed. “The Gryphon tribe keeps itself in Ilsabard, right?”

“Closer to the Othard but in the general area. However, I’ve spent most of my youth on the Isle of Val with the Students of Baldesion. Have you ever traveled there?”

“No. My father once thought to send me but I decided to make my own way there eventually. I wanted to explore Eorzea and learn as much as I could from the people here. Then I got caught up in things and time slipped away from me,” she added, not certain how to explain to the Sharlayan scholar that she had vanished for five years and only just returned a year ago with the power of the Echo.

“It’s a lovely place. Much colder in the winters than La Noscea. Still, the cold outside makes the warmth in the libraries so much more inviting. Especially if you have someone to read with,” he added, a faint blush tinging his cheeks at his boldness.

“Perhaps in times to come, I’ll stop in and work with you there,” T’lorna replied. “It would be nice to know someone up there. Someone who could show me around.”

“I would like nothing better,” G’raha laughed. “Tell me, what led you to becoming a white mage? I understand they are quite rare and that only the Padajl were permitted to learn their ways.”

“That is true,” T’lorna nodded as she launched into her tale. By the time she had finished, they were only halfway to the tower. “We should have ridden,” she muttered.

“And deprive ourselves of the chance to get to know one another better? Truly, I would rather us arrive so late we will be forced to pitch tents and sleep at the base than deny myself the opportunity to learn more about the Warrior of Light, T’lorna Zhiki.”

“Well, I want to get to know more about you.”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell,” he laughed, flushing slightly. “I’m my mother’s fifth son and was the only one to inherit my father’s eye,” he continued, pulling his hair out of his face so she could see the sanguine iris clearly. “Among my tribe, only one child in a generation is born with this eye. We call it the Allagan eye and my father, as his father before him, says that it binds us to the fate of ancient Allag.”

“That’s so… _wonderful_ ,” T’lorna laughed. “To think that you can trace your ancestry all the way back to the Third Era. The stories your tribe and family must have…”

“Well, we do have a few…” he admitted.

“Tell me?” she asked.

“Well, it all began back during the Allagan revolution…” He could not help the trill that shot through his chest at the way she seemed honestly interested in his stories and histories, asking him for more detail, especially if it involved him directly. By the time they made it to the Eight Sentinels, having dispatched a pair of gigas, his throat was hoarse but he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day talking with T’lorna. Her throat sounded just as dry but they both merely coughed and kept on talking.

~*~*~*~

The eight dread sentinels that stood guard over the Crystal Tower seemed to glare down at the puny, pathetic mortals who dared to approach them. For a moment, T’lorna wondered if Cid’s idea of crystal “fangs” would be enough to get them through this passage. After all, the Allagans had been far more advanced than even the Garleans and it seemed improbable that something so simple would unlock a shielding so powerful. Unconsciously, she found herself stepping back closer to G’raha Tia. He took a step closer to her and she felt herself relax. The backs of their hands brushed against each other and she clenched her fist, wondering why she suddenly wanted nothing more than to twine her fingers with his. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye showed that the other Miqo’te seemed just as affected by her as she was by him.

Odd, that. She’d never been much interested in playing kissing games like her sisters and cousins. None of the Tias she’d known had even looked at her twice. As an adolescent, when the teasing from her sisters and cousins grew to be too much because it was true; no man seemed interested in her at all, her father had soothed her tears by telling her that she was shaman-born and that it was rare to find a man worthy of one such as she.

_“Don’t cry, my little shaman-born star-watcher,” he would tell her. “The Tias and Nuhns who visit here to trade for wives know that shaman-born rarely leave their tribes. Besides, it will take a special man to love my little shaman. He exists, I know. His father has already written to me. In a few years, when he’s finished his studies and you’ve had time to learn the duties of a shaman, he’ll come and you’ll see that these warriors and hunters are nowhere **near** good enough for you.”_

But now there was a man who seemed interested in her and not just because she was famous. The whole walk over from Saint Coinach’s Find he’d talked, pressing her for more information about herself, and seeming to find her and her adventures endlessly fascinating. And she had found him just as enthralling. Growing up so close to Garlemald, exploring the ruins of dozens of civilizations as a kit, traveling to Sharlayan and becoming a Student of Baldesion and eventually an archon… he’d lived a fascinating life. Where her sisters and cousins and their mates talked of hunts and beasts, fighting and survival, she and G’raha talked of searching for knowledge, hunting answers, seeking wisdom from the ages.

Shaking her head to clear it and focusing on Cid’s words, she watched as the Garlean held the fang associated with fire out over the square between the guardians. There was a zipping tingle of energy that filled the air, nearly making her hair stand on end. Then came a shattering feel that blew hot, fire-aspected air over her skin as the first shield gave way. They paused to celebrate and she found herself hugging G’raha Tia as Biggs took up the next fang and felled the ice-aspected shield. G’raha gave her hand a squeeze — she nearly jumped when she realized they had been holding hands — and blushed as he walked over to bring down the earth-aspected barrier. Cid handed her the final fang and she walked up, grinning as she felt the wind wash over her with the final barrier coming down.

“We did it!” G’raha Tia said as he jumped and punched the air in triumph. Cid, Biggs, and Wedge were high-fiving each other and laughing. She felt a little like dancing herself. She turned back towards the tower and took a tentative step towards it, wondering about the structure that blocked access to it.

Hands gripping her shoulders and spinning her around made her yelp as she felt those same hands sliding under her arms, around her waist, and settling on her hips as she was picked up, held against a chest, and spun around. She looked down, laughing, into G’raha Tia’s face.

“No going into the Labyrinth of the Ancients alone,” he chuckled. “That would be too much for even the Warrior of Light. You’ll need to gather a small army to get past the traps that await you there.”

“Do you know much about it?” she asked, settling her hands on his shoulders and forcing herself to ignore the way she wanted to card them through his hair and stroke his ears.

“A bit,” he admitted. He opened his mouth to say more but one of the others cleared their throat, making G’raha shudder and lower T’lorna to the ground, blushing furiously as he realized just what he had been doing. T’lorna felt her own face grow hot. What must they think of her? Being so forward with a scholar she’d just met? G’raha must think her a child or worse! Still, he did twine his fingers around hers and give her hand a slight squeeze.

“We’re going to head back to the Find and plan out the next steps,” Cid said, doing his best not to laugh at the sight of the Miqo’te. _Young love,_ he thought to himself. “T’lorna, I imagine you’ll want to get in contact with Syris and Jinpu about getting the fighters together from Valhalla. G’raha, I imagine that you’ll have quite a lot of research to catch up on. T’lorna and her associates would no doubt appreciate as much information about the dangers they’ll be facing as you can find.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha flushed deeply, embarrassed at being called out by none other than Cid nan Garlond. It was bad enough that he’d forgotten himself enough to pick the _Warrior of Light_ up off the ground and spin her around the way he would have done for one of his sisters or nieces but then to have the man remind him that he would be needed to do research so that that very woman could brave the dangers of the Labyrinth of the Ancients and survive was well-nigh more than he could take.

Still, the woman was kind and patient, just as she had been when he rambled on and on and on about himself earlier. She’d also not made any remark to embarrass him when he realized that he’d taken her hand in his. He loosened his grip slightly but she made no move to pull away from him. G’raha looked at her in amazement. He’d never had a woman of his own kind respond to him like this. His sisters and cousins used to tease him that the only love he’d ever know would be with another Tia who liked his weird eye. His father, on the other hand, had comforted him when the teasing got to be too much to bear.

_“The woman for you is out there, my son. You’ll not be a nuhn like others — you’ll be a husband, like me. You’ll wind up having the instincts of a nuhn, though, but we’ll worry about that when you’re a little older. There’s a girl down in La Noscea whose father thinks you would be a good match. When you are both a little older, we’ll arrange a meeting to see if you two would get on well together. It would mean leaving the tribe to live among her people — she’s shaman-born…”_

_“Shaman-born?”_

_“That means she’s like you,” his father laughed. “Full of questions and a thirst for knowledge. She might wind up going to the Students of Baldesion when she’s old enough to leave her tribe’s protection. Maybe that would be best for you both…”_

He shook his head, his longish red hair falling to obscure his Allagan eye. He gazed at T’lorna more, studying her. Idly, he wondered if she could be the very woman his father had once considered for him. She was around the right age and from the right area. _No_ , he thought to himself. _Best not to try to force her to compete against a dream. I_ _’ll get to know her in her own right and do my best to prove myself worthy of her time and attention. Still,_ he added, brushing his thumb against her thumb as the pair of them fell in behind the others to make their way back to the Find, _this is rather nice._


	4. The Plan of Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize I had accidentally posted the same chapter twice! Here's the "real" chapter with a new one to follow in a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything from FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

G’raha cleared his throat as he scratched against the tent-flap begging admittance. Though the tent he shared with Cid and Wedge was far larger than the one T’lorna kept for herself, it was also far more crowded with engineering tools. Therefore, they had opted to keep the “field library” in her tent with the rest of their research being housed with the Scions in the Rising Stones. She had told him that he could enter whenever he needed but he did not want to surprise her with his presence. During the few weeks since bringing down the Eight Sentinels, he had spent almost as much – if not more – time in her tent studying than he had anything else. The rare breaks he had, he spent with T’lorna studying the Tower itself and observing the Allagan ruins that were part of the Labyrinth of the Ancients. Still, for all that he had spent most of his days and nights with the Warrior of Light, he did not want to wander in when she might be unready for visitors.

“Come in!” she called from within the tent.

G’raha let himself in and grinned at seeing her seated on the cot, a book in front of her and a journal and inkwell balanced on the lapdesk. Her two ink-stained fingers were pressed to her ear and the quill she’d been using had made a mark against the side of her face.

“Yes, Sy,” she said calmly, “we really _are_ going to need that many fighters. Look, I’ve told you as much about the Labyrinth as I know. Think ‘big monsters, big prizes.’ Yes, yes,” she added, rolling her eyes slightly. “Well, tell _her_ that. Jin’s going to be there. Yes, you should come prepared to take a lot of hits to the head and shoulders. I’ll make certain none of them kill you. Bring two friends. Well, yes, we’ll need two dozen _total_. I meant ‘bring two friends who like getting hit around the head like you do, dummy.’ Lokira and Geralin sound fine. I’ll take Gera in my squad. I’ll try to get you guys more information. I can stop by the house in Gridania when I have it and we can go over various battle plans. Look, I need to go. G’raha’s here and we’re going to see if we can puzzle out some more of his ancient maps. Yeah, the Echo is really handy for that kind of stuff. Later, Sy.”

“He sounds like quite a character,” G’raha said as T’lorna lowered her hand.

“He’s great. He’s like my brother only Elezen. Did you find more maps?”

“I did.” He handed several rolled-up maps over to the woman and then helped her up from the cot by holding her lapdesk so she could get up without spilling ink all over the place. “Truly, you would be most welcome in Sharlayan. My friend Krile has the Echo and we find it quite useful to have her translate ancient texts. There are times I wish that I was as blessed by the Mothercrystal myself.”

“It’s not that wonderful,” T’lorna sighed as she lifted a hand and rubbed at her forehead. “Yes, the visions can be useful but they can also be deadly if they hit when I’m fighting.”

“I’d never thought of it that way,” G’raha mused. “Krile does not do much fighting. However, she does get tired of everyone expecting her to drop her own studies and research in order to provide translations for theirs.”

“That would also grow rather tiring,” T’lorna chuckled. “Ooh, these are wonderful maps. Where did you find them?”

“Two of them were in a crate over at Rowena’s. She had _no_ idea the kind of treasure she had. The last one is based on a legend I came across in one of the books we left back at your quarters in the Rising Stones.”

“So, you _drew_ this map yourself?” she asked, gesturing to the one that looked fresher than the others. “G’raha, you have a gift for art.”

He blushed and grinned at her compliment. Then, the pair of the settled down onto the cot, leaving it only to search for and retrieve a tome, scroll, or, much later, supper. G’raha lit the lanterns with an absent gesture, summoning minor points of fire over the wicks and the pair continued to read on and talk as they did most days. It wasn’t until G’raha realized he’d read the same paragraph six times and could not remember what it said that he noticed just how late it had gotten.

“I’m for my bed,” he yawned, turning to face T’lorna and smiling softly when he saw that she had fallen asleep next to him, curled up with her back against his leg, her breath coming deeply and easily. Her tail had wrapped itself over his knee – a sign of deep trust amongst the Seekers. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just set the book aside and curl up around her but he knew he should return to the tent he shared with the other men lest rumors get started. Carefully setting the book on the table nearby, he climbed over the sleeping woman, threw the blanket over her, and then padded around the tent extinguishing the lamps.

The night was clear and cool, speaking of the cold that would come with winter in a few weeks. The stars seemed close enough to reach out and grab. Idly, he wondered if T’lorna knew much about Sharlayan astrology. Perhaps he would drag her out of the tent tomorrow night and teach her what little he knew. They’d spent the past week closeted in her tent studying — a change would be a nice respite. Giving himself a shake, he walked over and ducked into the tent he shared with the others.

~*~*~*~

G’raha Tia ducked into his tent with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. He always felt happy whenever T’lorna showed a sign – however unconscious – that she trusted him as she would a member of her own tribe. His tail bounced jauntily behind him but wilted when he saw Cid, Biggs, and Wedge all sitting up staring at him.

“We’ve been talking,” Cid said without preamble. “You and T’lorna are both night-owls, are you not? I know that she can get up early and run on very little sleep — believe me, I’ve seen her do that. However, us gray-beards need our sleep, G’raha. You coming in during the wee hours is not conducive to us getting that sleep.”

“My apologies, Master Garlond,” G’raha said with chagrin. “I have tried to be quiet…”

“Oh, I don’t fault you on that,” Cid said, waving the explanation away. “You are quiet, all things considered. However, it’s difficult to be quiet and to shift all of the metal tools and parts around so you can get into your sleeping roll. No, we took a vote and decided that since you and T’lorna are working closely together anyway, it makes sense for us to spring for a slightly larger tent for you two and you to just share it with her.”

“Me? Share a tent with the Warrior of Light!” G’raha yelped with alarm. True, he wanted nothing more than that but still… “It’s hardly appropriate.”

“I’m quite certain that you can both restrain yourselves from any ‘inappropriate’ contact,” Cid sighed. “Besides, we need to replace her tent anyway. It’s too thin for the weather we’re going to be getting.”

“Think of it this way,” Biggs offered with a shrug, “you two can stay up all night researching and sleep in. Honestly, we’re getting a bit tired of the way you hiss at us when we get up at a reasonable hour.”

“Besides,” Wedge added, “T’lorna’s used to sharing a tent with the other Scions. She and Thancred used to camp out together a lot and I know that she and Alphinaud shared a tent when they were lost in Coerthas and couldn’t get back to Camp Dragonhead before full dark. I doubt she’ll think much of it.”

“But… but…” G’raha protested, his face heating with embarrassment and desire.

“Worst case, we send you both to stay in Revenant’s Toll,” Cid said with finality.

“Fine,” G’raha huffed. “We’ll talk to her tomorrow and see what she has to say.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna woke the next morning and turned beet red. Had she really fallen asleep with G’raha just behind her? What must he think of her? She groped behind her, relieved that he was no longer sitting in the bed reading but wondering where he was. Sitting up, she pushed the blanket off of herself and rose to change clothes. She grimaced at the selection — aside from her thick leather re-enforced armor, she didn’t have much that would stand up to the chill in Mor Dhona now that the seasons were changing.

“I’ll just have to go to Revenant’s Toll and see what they have available,” she sighed. “I can’t wear my armor all the time. It’s just not practical.”

Satisfied with her decision, she ducked out of the tent after dressing and brushing her hair. Cid, Biggs, and Wedge were all up and sitting over at the common eating area. The smell of porridge in the air made T’lorna realize that she was hungry. She hurried over, waving to the men, and scooped herself a bowl of porridge from the pot over the fire.

“Late night?” Cid asked with a small smile. “G’raha is still asleep.”

“He growled at us when we tried to wake him for breakfast,” Biggs muttered.

“I suppose he and I _did_ stay up a bit late…” T’lorna cringed.

“A bit late every night for the past week,” Wedge huffed. “You two night-owls are made for each other.”

T’lorna blushed at that and tried to hide it by covering her face with the bowl as she shoveled porridge into her mouth. By the time she’d finished and felt in control of her expressions enough to lower the bowl, the other men had moved on in their conversation to discuss some of the Allagan artifacts they had gathered from the ruins scattered throughout Mor Dhona. T’lorna excused herself to go over and wash the dishes before telling them that she was headed into town to try to find some winter clothes.

Several hours and more gil than she’d wanted to spend later, T’lorna returned to the base camp at Saint Coinach’s Find. Cid, Biggs, and Wedge were over in their workshop while Rammbroes watched nervously as G’raha Tia clambered up the structures and scaffolding, making notes in his journal all the while. T’lorna smiled to herself — G’raha was nothing if not as sure-footed as a mountain goat — and ducked into her tent where she stood looking around in dismay.

Books, scrolls, tomes, and loose notes were scattered everywhere. Quills and inkwells lay strewn among the rubble and there was scarcely room for her cot amid the mess. Her clothes lay in heaps around the tent. Sighing, T’lorna set the bag with her new winter clothes outside, opened the tent flaps and tied them back, and set to work organizing the chaos within. She put dirty clothes in a basket to take to the Rising Stones for washing, folded up clean clothes and put them in her travel box, packed her armor away after cleaning it, took apart the cot and left the mat with her blankets folded atop it where it had been. She then used the scaffolding from the cot to rig up some crude shelves and began organizing the books so that they could be picked up off the ground. She shuffled through the various scrolls and piled them together, promising herself that she would pick up some casing to put on the lone desk to hold them and keep them somewhat organized. Then, she turned to the notes. Stacking them into two piles — hers and G’raha’s — she tried to sort each pile into some semblance of order. Once that was done, night was beginning to fall and she had only to finish straightening up the inkwells and quills.

“Wow,” G’raha said from just beyond the opening. “This looks so much neater than it did.”

“Yes, but we’re quickly running out of space,” she sighed as she scrubbed a hand through her hair. She winced as she realized she really needed a bath and began trying to figure out if another trip to the Rising Stones would be worth it or if she should just suffer through a cold wash in the nearby lake.

“About that,” he said, stepping into the tent and then scrubbing a hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. “They… well, Cid and the others… since we’re up late night working quite frequently, they think it would be a good idea to get you a larger and heavier tent and then just have me stay in it with you so that I’ll quit waking them up when I trip over their mechanical contraptions in the dark,” he finally said in a rush.

T’lorna blinked and then thought about the idea for a long moment. G’raha seemed to grow even more uncomfortable from the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked everywhere except at her. Finally, she shrugged.

“It’s not the _worst_ idea,” she muttered. “We both do tend to stay up most of the night researching because there are far fewer distractions. It should work out well. Provided, of course,” she quipped as her stomach turned somersaults, “you don’t snore.”

“I do not snore,” he muttered sullenly.

“When do they want this arrangement to start?”

“I’m guessing immediately,” he shrugged. “There should be enough space here now that you’ve cleaned the place up. I can sleep on one side of the tent and you can sleep on the other.”

“Gods no,” she scowled before she had a chance to think the statement through. “I’d have to clear out more and re-organize _everything._ Again!”

“So, what? Are you proposing that we share a bedroll? That would be…”

“No, I’m proposing that we just sleep next to each other in our own bedrolls.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise idea…” he trailed off.

“Do you have a better one?”

“…not really. Truly, you don’t mind sharing a tent with a man?”

“Oh, please,” she said as she waved the thought off. “I’ve spent enough nights having to share quarters with Thancred. I doubt you can be worse than him when he’s in his cups. Alphinaud manages to be almost as bad. Sharing a tent with someone who can appreciate a coherently organized space and doesn’t think I’m supposed to be his maid will be a _welcome_ change.”

“So, you are certain you are all right with this?”

“It’s fine. Now, I have to go wash up and then I’d like to get some supper. Maybe after that we can…”

“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to take a break from research tonight. I was wondering if you might want to go star-gazing.”

“And help you learn more about Sharlayan astrology?” she asked, her face lighting up. “That sounds like a great idea. Let me go wash and change into something suitable for star-gazing in the late autumn and I’m yours.”

So rushed was she to set off on her tasks that she did not hear G’raha mutter something that sounded like “Only if I’m yours as well.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha returned to the tent he shared with the other men and stared at the ground. Not only had T’lorna agreed to the mad idea of the two of them sharing a tent, she’d further argued against them sleeping on opposite sides of the tent. As much as the thought of sleeping curled up next to her thrilled him, he knew that it would make getting any _actual_ sleep difficult. Still, at least he could have a few hours to get himself used to the idea that this was going to happen. Bending down and scooping up his bedroll and pad, he walked back over to the small tent and put it down near her bedroll. He walked back to his tent again and retrieved the rest of his personal items, depositing them in the tent he now shared with the most beautiful and intelligent woman he’d ever had the honor of meeting in his life.

Idly, he knew he _should_ have been happy. He should have been _thrilled_. The chance to get to spend even more time with T’lorna? He should have been dancing and singing. Instead, he felt fretful that she would realize how much he adored her and turn him out. True, she had not turned away from his bumbling previously — she even seemed to enjoy holding hands with him. And hugging him. And she didn’t get flustered at all when their tails accidentally brushed up against each other or, worse yet, wound up entwining themselves together. Well, maybe she did get a little bit flustered at that but she never berated him. Instead, she tried to _apologize_ for it!

He folded and tucked away the last of his clothing; he, certainly, would not leave them scattered all over the tent for her to deal with. Had he done that at home, his sisters, his mother, his aunts, _and_ his cousins would have made him regret it. Even after he’d moved into the Tia lodging, he’d been neat. By the time he had everything stowed away, adding only the barest of clutter to the crowded tent, T’lorna was returning from her bath. He glanced up and felt his breath catch in his throat.

Her face was pink from the cold and from the wash but her hair, normally pulled up and back, hung loose down her shoulders, spilling down her back and chest. Instead of her usual white mage robes or armor, she wore a soft black sweater that fit her well but had a loose and rolled collar and sleeves. The pants she wore fit tightly against her legs, showing them off in a way that made his mouth water and his throat tighten.

“Cid said that supper is ready,” she announced as she set her other clothes in a basket before going to a box and plucking out a thick, fleecy blanket. “We should eat before we go star gazing.”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “We probably should.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha would never be quite certain exactly how he managed to fall asleep so comfortably that night. He’d expected that he would never be able to get to sleep once he realized that T’lorna meant to wrap both of them up in her over-sized fleece blanket while they watched the stars. Especially once he saw that she meant to sit in between his legs and lean back against him so she could better point out the constellations. That left him with nothing else to do but to wrap his arms around her and breathe in the clean scent of her hair.

When the night had begun to wane into the dark hours just before dawn, the pair of them had finally disentangled themselves from each other and trudged back to their shared tent. With their backs to each other, they quickly dressed for bed and then lay down in their bedrolls to sleep. G’raha’s earlier nervousness returned ten-fold as he watched her snuggle into her blankets with her back to him. He wanted so much to reach out and wrap his arms around her again, to hold her against his chest as he had been doing for hours already. He held his breath, willing himself to stay calm, counting backwards from one hundred and then counting up to it again. Finally, he felt himself starting to drift off to the sound of her breathing. As sleep rolled over him, he realized that she had fallen asleep close to him without any hesitation.

~*~*~*~

The next week and a half passed far too swiftly for G’raha’s liking. He spent nearly every minute with T’lorna but still found he had not enjoyed enough of her company. At night, they would pile their bedding next to each other and lie so close that they were almost touching. As he watched her sleep until he himself succumbed to slumber, G’raha thought his heart would burst from sheer joy. His dreams came to be filled with those of a life spent adventuring with her, uncovering the many secrets of history scattered throughout Eorzea, Ilsabard, and Othard. He dreamed of days spent basking in the La Noscean sun or roaming the forests of the Black Shroud.

He dreamed of kits, some with her sapphire eyes and his red hair. Of a son with the Allagan eye.

Sighing, G’raha continued to study T’lorna’s face as she slept, oblivious to the tumult brewing within him. He’d had lovers in the past — Hyur, Elezen, and Miqo’te. He’d bedded men and women. He’d even grown to care for a few of them beyond just the bedding. One, another Tia like himself, he’d almost thought he could settle down with. But then, A’athna Tia had settled down with a Keeper tribe to be one of the bevy of husbands kept on-hand, leaving G’raha out in the proverbial cold. Then had come the hopeful news of a possible marriage with one of the rare shaman-born from the Condor tribe which had warmed his heart again; a shaman-born wife would not disdain a man who spent most of his energy hunting for knowledge and lore instead of wild beasts. But then, the Calamity struck… he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he returned his study to the golden-haired wonder lying so close to him.

How was it that this lone woman, little more than a slip of a girl in early adulthood, could tug at his soul so? Sighing and wrapping his arms around himself, G’raha nestled his face into his pillow and gave himself up to sleep.

~*~*~*~

“Someone is looking much more relaxed than she did when we stormed the Castrum,” Jinpu laughed as he led his forces up the hill to Saint Coinach’s Find. “I thought you were going to crap out a diamond.”

“Syris kept running so far ahead that I could barely keep track of him,” T’lorna replied with an answering laugh. “I half thought that he wanted to get every bone in his body broken.”

“Did not,” Syris laughed as he walked up to hug the Miqo’te woman. He bent down and picked her up off the ground for a proper bear-hug. “Now, do we need to have a talk with a particular gentleman?”

“Do I need to cut someone?” Jinpu said, half-serious but half-mocking.

“No, no. It’s not like that…” T’lorna protested.

“Oh, that blush says that it _is_ like _that_ ,” Jinpu teased.

“Oh, hush. Let’s go to the war-tent and discuss how we’re going to tackle this place.”

G’raha watched the exchange among the fighters of the Valhalla free company with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. T’lorna had told him enough about the various members – Jinpu, their leader; Syris, her near-brother; Geralin, Syris’s closest friend; Lokira, a woman who could put the fear of the Twelve into _Garleans_ ; Marcus, a man who could make _anything_ , and more – that he felt as if he knew them. However, watching the men pick up and tease the woman he’d come to love was not easy. Jealousy, the green-eyed monster, tried to poison his heart.

Then, one of the warriors – a black-haired Elezen with amethyst eyes – noticed him and nodded his direction. G’raha swallowed his feelings and nodded back, an invitation to the other man to approach him.

“G’raha Tia?” the Elezen asked in a gentle baritone. “I’m Geralin. Lorna has told us so much about you that we all feel as if you are an honorary member of Valhalla.”

“Really?” G’raha asked, his ears quirking forward and backward with pleasure and his tail sweeping gently behind him. “She has spoken a fair bit about you as well. She says that you and Syris are like her brothers.”

“We are,” Geralin laughed. “Syris is the one who found her wandering around Gridania lost as a newborn lamb. He brought her back to Mother Moiunne and helped her get acquainted with the city. I’ll never forget stumbling into our room that night and finding him sleeping on the floor while she took the bed. It was adorable.”

“So, you and Syris are close?”

“Quite,” Geralin chuckled. “Many think we are merely friends and comrades who have become well-nigh inseparable and there is some truth to that. However, the whole story is something else entirely.”

“I see,” G’raha said with a slight nod. “Such things are not uncommon among my people.”

“So I have come to learn,” the black-haired Elezen grinned. “Still, if you would take our sister from us for your own, you _will_ have to prove your worth to those of us who have fought alongside her since first she wandered into Gridania a year ago. Not to mention her father, brothers, and uncles in La Nocsea. Never think that her hand will be easily won, G’raha Tia. She is a woman worthy of the best she can choose.”

“T’lorna and I are merely friends,” G’raha replied carefully. “True, we spend much of our time together because we share a scholarly bent. However, I doubt that she would ever see fit to…”

“Enough of that,” the Elezen laughed, waving off G’raha’s protests. “Let us go see what they are planning before they announce that Syris and I will wander the Labyrinth alone and in our small-clothes. After all,” he sighed, “we still owe a fair bit to Lorna for the time she bailed us out of the drunk tank and I wouldn’t put it past her to call in the favor now.”

“That sounds like a tale I want to hear in detail,” the Miqo’te chuckled as he followed the other man into the tent.

“And hear it you shall,” Geralin promised. “Once this is over and done with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get into the first fun part of the story. Let me know what you think.


	5. The Labyrinth of the Ancients

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we enter the Labyrinth of the Ancients... What will happen now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize I had accidentally posted the same chapter twice. Here's a new chapter to make up for that! And, as always, I don't own anything related to FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna felt a sense of awe press down upon her as she and the others stepped into the Labyrinth of the Ancients. The Allagan structure had been built on a massive scale, far beyond anything she had ever seen in any of her travels. Though the stairs and walkways were sized on something approaching “normal” for Elezen and Roedygan, the vast space of the inner chamber itself dwarfed the walkways and made the space seem more appropriate for something akin to the ancient dragons of legend in size. Even the gigantaur wandering in the crystalline caverns of Mor Dhona would have been lost inside this immense chamber.

“Three paths,” Jinpu said, his black tail whipping behind him in excitement. “Shall we go with our usual method of picking a direction?”

“I forgot to bring enough rice-wine for that,” T’lorna muttered as she studied the blazing emblems glowing atop each of the three doorways. Though they were not a true language and thus could not be translated by her Blessing of Light, they did have enough meaning that she and the others in Valhalla blessed by Hydaelyn could make some sense of them. She started towards the one that glowed red like G’raha’s eye, drawn towards it even if she couldn’t have explained why. She scanned back behind her to see the members of NOAH begin moving in to the entryway and smiled when she caught a shock of red hair. She waved at G’raha before taking up her position in the middle of the group. Healers were almost always surrounded by the warriors and placed in the middle of their groups or to the back if that would afford them better protection. She could see Geralin and Lokira ahead, his shield ready and his swords held loosely in his hand. The Elezen’s gaze roved around the chamber much as did T’lorna’s and, when he noticed her looking at him, he smiled and nodded, his amethyst eyes warm.

“Lovely place you’ve found here,” he said, pitching his voice so that she could hear it. “I can’t decide whether the décor or the traps are the best topic of discussion.”

“The things that want to kill us always make the best discussions. Easy to digest in more ways than one,” Syris chuckled. Geralin laughed in agreement and the two men eyed each other in that way that made T’lorna feel a trifle warm.

“Lucky for us, whatever minor beasts the Allagans left to guard the place have long since decayed into dust,” T’lorna said as she studied a bone fragment left on the wide golden walkway.

“Which means that the big guardian beasts will be even worse to deal with. The Allag may not have wanted to waste their time preserving the smaller ones for eons but, unless I forgot everything I once knew, they will have very well used their power to ensure that the larger ones remained in fighting trim to destroy anyone who dared desecrate their places of power,” Geralin sighed as he scrubbed a gauntleted hand through his shaggy black hair. “What?” he added testily when Syris started to chuckle. “I _read_.”

“Oh, is _that_ what we’re calling it now?”

T’lorna snorted and shook her head as the groups made their way through the massive doorframe and into the first chamber. The Bone Dragon, a dread guardian whom G’raha had warned them was heavily aspected towards poison, awaited them. As she gazed out upon the field of battle, T’lorna was grateful for the night spent studying with G’raha Tia.

She refused to think about how she wished she could risk letting the scholar know she would like to do more than just study with him. After all, she had battles to fight.

~*~*~*~

“If I ever again make fun of Lokira…” Syris winced as T’lorna’s healing magic washed over him.

“We’ll know that you’re back to normal,” the Hyur woman laughed. “You really shouldn’t have run out ahead like that.”

“I thought it was asleep!” Syris protested. “Great big thing like that, curled up with its tail over its nose. It looked like a giant…”

“King Behemoth,” T’lorna muttered as she continued to pour her energy into the wounded fighter. “Next time something that big throws you in the air, stay down when you hit the ground. I’m not certain just how you managed to survive with _six_ fractured ribs.”

“He’s tough,” Geralin replied, his voice somewhat tight with strain making it difficult for T’lorna to tell if he was being sarcastic or sincere.

“Tougher than you,” Syris growled.

“But not smarter.”

“Okay, enough you two,” Lokira hissed. “Let the healer do her work.”

“Just about finished,” T’lorna said absently. She reached up to wipe sweat from her forehead, surprised at the way her arms shook. “We need to rest before we press on. If what G’raha and I learned is true, we’ve beaten the five guardians and have the last to face and he’s no pushover.”

“I can go all…” Syris started to say before glares from Lokira, Geralin, Marcus, Kep, _and_ Jinpu silenced him.

“Maybe you can,” Geralin said softly, “but T’lorna has gone far beyond what is wise. She and the others need a break. Remember, Sy, we wouldn’t get very far at all without their support.”

“True enough,” the other Elezen sighed. “Let’s break out the sleeping rolls and rest.” T’lorna nodded but could not rise. Her eyelids grew heavy and she leaned back against the walkway’s raised wall to rest for a few moments. Around her, she could hear the fighters of Valhalla begin to move towards the transporter device to return to the entrance of the Labyrinth where they had stashed their camping gear for safe-keeping each morning. For three days they had fought their way through the monstrosities of ancient Allag and emerged victorious. The Bone Dragon, Atomos, Thanatos, the Allagan Bomb, and now King Behemoth lay dead, the aetheric power holding them together dissipating to rejoin the Lifestream. They returned accompanied by the members of NOAH who wanted to study the arena where the King Behemoth had lain.

“She’s all right,” T’lorna heard Geralin whisper some time later. She could not seem to open her eyes to see what was going on. “She’s just wiped out. Three days of battle will do that to anyone.”

“T’lorna?” she heard G’raha whisper into her ear. She tried to answer him but couldn’t muster the energy. “You _are_ worn out, aren’t you?”

“Hm hmm,” she managed to moan softly. The last thing she could feel was his hand stroking her face before exhaustion claimed her completely.

~*~*~*~

“‘S not my fault,” Syris mumbled when G’raha Tia began to glare at him. “Wouldn’t have died right away.”

“Ignore him,” Geralin pleaded softly. “He gets more stupid when he gets tired. Not that he’s the most intelligent of fighters when not tired. Rushing ahead like that…”

“He seems to be your problem so I will let you yell at him first,” G’raha growled as he gathered a sleeping T’lorna in his arms. “However, the next time I find her like this because of his recklessness…”

“You can go up one side of him and down the other. Thrice,” Geralin promised with a small smile. He reached down and helped his partner to his feet so the pair of them could shuffle off towards the front where they normally slept. The rest of Valhalla were settling into their customary ranks with Lokira and Jinpu bringing T’lorna’s camping gear to G’raha. The Mi’qote nodded at each other before Jinpu moved off to find his own place to rest. Unable to keep holding T’lorna while he pitched the small pup tent she favored in the field, G’raha leaned her back against the wall and quickly put the tent together and unrolled their bedrolls inside. He then lifted her into his arms and carried her into it, bending nearly in half to keep from knocking the structure over. There was just enough room to begin stripping her blood-stained and sweat-soaked armor off – a task which he did while working out the most complicated aetheric equations he could think of. He took one of the small hand towels and, dampening it with water from his flask, gave her a quick wash to help her sleep better. It was too dark to do much more than make certain whatever injuries she had were clean but he promised himself that he would check her over in the morning. Realizing he had best not go through her personal clothing stores lest he tempt himself overmuch, he plucked one of his own shirts out of his knapsack and pulled it over her head.

He grinned at the way it looked on her – the sleeves were far too long and the shirt hung down to her thighs. The front of the tunic, laced closed, hung off one shoulder. Knowing better than to try pulling it up lest he succumb to temptation, he sighed and tucked her into her bedroll before disrobing enough to lay down next to her. For once, he had no interest in exploring the part of the Labyrinth she and her fellows had just cleared. His only interest was in making certain that T’lorna got the rest she so desperately needed. He smiled to himself when he felt her shift to press her back against his chest and found himself wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. She purred softly in her sleep, her tail twitching lazily until it curled over his hip, his own tail twining with it. Closing his eyes and willing himself to calm down, G’raha Tia listened to the Warrior of Light’s breathing, pacing his own by it, until he finally fell asleep.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna woke the next morning feeling oddly safe. She had not felt this sense of safety and comfort since leaving her tribal homeland. Her back felt warm and she could feel two hands pressing against her stomach. Opening her eyes, she was not completely surprised to see G’raha’s arms wrapped around her and to realize that it was his tail entwined with her own. She turned her head slightly, smiling tenderly at the way his face was pressed against the side of her neck and his breath tickled against her neck. She turned, careful not to wake him, and regarded him as he slept. His arms tightened around her, pressing her chest against his own and his hands curled into her back. His tail wrapped around hers intimately and he frowned slightly in his sleep. She stretched her neck, her lips quirking into a smile when he relaxed, the furrows in his forehead disappearing even as his arms tightened around her, pulling her in so that her face was buried in his chest.

“G’raha,” she whispered, her lips moving against the bare skin of his shoulder.

“’Lorna?” he muttered sleepily, his arms tightening around her.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

“You feeling better?” he yawned.

“Much.”

“Good. I was worried. Y’wouldn’t wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“‘S’okay,” he sighed, burying his face in the top of her head. “Not your fault.”

T’lorna snuggled in closer to G’raha, relaxing as he tightened his hold on her and pressed his face into her hair. “Am I wearing your shirt?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Didn’t think it was a good idea to look through your clothes.”

“Oh,” she said softly, “I… I might not have minded but thank you.”

“‘S’okay.”

She waited a few moments, both annoyed and happy when he simply fell asleep again, his hold on her secure, and finally joined him again as her eyes grew heavy once more.

~*~*~*~

G’raha woke the next morning to the sounds of Valhalla preparing for the last fight. He was not surprised to find himself alone in the tent but smiled when he saw the shirt he’d given T’lorna to wear folded up neatly next to him. Yawning and stretching as much as the small tent would allow, he shoved the blankets down and dressed quickly before rolling up his bedroll and ducking out of the tent.

He looked around and saw that the rest of Valhalla had long since packed up and made their way through the last part of the Labyrinth of the Ancients towards the final challenge, the guardian Phlegethon.

His eyes widened in shock. Phlegethon. He pressed the linkshell in his ear and growled when he heard the signal that said T’lorna was engaged. Switching the frequency, he contacted Cid and the rest of NOAH. Within moments, they were gathered around him as he hastily took down the tent.

“We can’t let her face that monstrosity alone,” G’raha said, his voice tight with strain and his tail lashing wildly behind him. His ears flicked back and forth so quickly they were almost a blur.

“Calm yourself, G’raha,” Cid said with a small smile. “T’lorna will be fine. She’s got all of Valhalla with her. I know you weren’t happy when I pointed out that she has more experience in battle than you but, son, you’ve got to trust her to do the job she’s been given to do.”

“I do trust her,” G’raha protested. “It’s…”

“The thought of her risking her life bothers you,” Cid finished for him. “It bothers all of us. She’s been in fight after fight, battle after battle. She’s been beaten down, broken, and has always picked herself up and carried on. None of us like it,” he sighed, “but it’s her calling.”

“I will not let her fight alone again. Next time, I _will_ be there.”

“Only if you get much better at combat,” Cid muttered. “Come, now. Let’s get this tent stowed away properly and go wait for the battle to finish. Perhaps you will feel better if you can see her in action. It is,” the Garlean laughed, “a sight to behold.”

A short time later, G’raha made the climb up to where the battle was taking place. The arena had been sealed off by the enemies. Phlegethon would not want his prey escaping and Valhalla would not want to leave an opening for potential allies of the Allagan monstrosity to come through and provide support. His eyes wandered the field, noting that the fighting seemed confined to three points outside of a shield while the oversized master of the field channeled a spell. Three iron giants attacked the three different groups. G’raha scanned the groups until his eyes settled on T’lorna. She was standing a few feet behind Geralin, her energies forming a shield around him that kept the iron giant from battering the Elezen into a pulp. For his part, Geralin channeled part of his energy into a shield that extended behind him in a fan, giving safe ground for the ranged forces to bring their utmost to bear. T’lorna and Alys kept their eyes peeled and their spells at the ready, throwing shields around the melee fighters and Geralin, healing them, and scanning the other groups in case they needed to break away and provide their energies elsewhere.

The central part of the arena was filled with a blinding, white-hot light that forced G’raha to throw his arm up to shield his eyes from the glare. As far away as he was from it, he wondered just how much more severe it had to have been from where T’lorna stood. Blinking away the after-image, G’raha gasped when he saw T’lorna standing near the gigantic construct, weaving deftly through its legs and dodging the swinging fists.

“She’s going to get herself killed,” he yelped, sweat beading on his forehead.

“I’ve seen her face down worse. You should watch her take a turn at being the defender. Geralin has taught her much of the sword and shield and Syris had introduced her to the skill of the great-sword. Imagine her defending the others against _that_ ,” Biggs said breathlessly.

“I believe I may be ill,” G’raha huffed, hunching over and planting his hands on his thighs as his head swam.

“It’s winding down. I think this will be the last round,” Cid said softly as he watched the fight. G’raha forced himself to stand upright and observe. T’lorna danced and wove her way through the ranks of the fighters, one eye on the giant and one scanning the crowd constantly for those in need of her healing energies. The monstrous Phlegethon began to flag, its mighty swings coming more and more slowly until, at last, it collapsed on the ground and then exploded into a shower of aether while the fighters of Valhalla watched on.

The magical gate closing off the arena lowered and the four men made their way into it. The rest of Valhalla were packing up and moving to the teleporters, discussing how best to divvy up the treasures they’d found but T’lorna stood gazing up at the Allagan architecture with a mix of satisfaction and awe.

“Ho there, T’lorna!” Cid called out, raising his hand to her. G’raha glared at the man but held his peace for the moment. After all, it would not do for the members of NOAH to know just how much he wanted to rush up and embrace the Warrior of Light. Still, he had to say _something_.

“Very impressive,” he grinned, trying to hide the fact that, until a moment ago, he’d been terrified out of his wits. “Your name shall be writ large in the volumes that are sure to be penned on this historic expedition.” _Especially if I’m the one doing the penning_.

“The scale of this structure defies comprehension,” Cid muttered. “Someone plainly thought bigger was better,” he teased, winking at the Miqo’te woman.

“According to the findings of my Baldesion colleagues, the Crystal Tower was constructed to collect and store the endless energies of the sun. A characteristically ambitious undertaking,” G’raha explained, ignoring the way that Cid was trying to hide a smile. “Now, what of the tower’s inner defenses? Judging by your haggard expression, clearing out the labyrinth was no small feat.”

“Well, the Archon we just fought was certainly no small matter,” T’lorna said, affecting the same professional tone.

“Yes, Phelegethon. Not an Archon. He was a hero of the Allagan revolution,” G’raha explained.

“Do I even want to know where you learned that? The size of his scimitar?” Cid muttered.

“Well, I _am_ a historian. And I have a certain, shall we say, “affinity” for the lore of the Allagan Empire. It is, of course, all knowledge gleaned from musty scrolls and tomes. The ancient texts claim that the Crystal Tower is defended by the champions of eld, resurrected and augmented through the Allagans’ extraordinary technology.”

“Chief!” Biggs called out from across the arena. “You need to see this!” The three joined the other two and gazed up through a door that had begun to open, revealing the Crystal Tower itself. Stairs led up towards it.

“Well, well, there it is… the foot of the tower. What surprises do _you_ have in store for us, I wonder?” Cid sighed. He turned to look at T’lorna and G’raha, standing close to each other with their hands brushing against each other. The red-haired man was practically beaming at T’lorna and nodded slightly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you with us on this little jaunt, old friend. Had you not beaten a path through this maze, I very much doubt we’d be standing here now.”

“Well! We have much to discuss and digest. Let us retire to Saint Coinach’s Find for the present and there plan our next step,” G’raha suggested. “Lest there be any doubt, our expedition has some way to go yet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think so far? Should I continue or should I pack it up and go home?


	6. The Path to Syrcus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love it when two clueless people are in love and it takes them forever to realize it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything in Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

G’raha managed to contain himself in front of the other members of NOAH. Though he feared that he had given much away concerning his feelings for T’lorna, he resolved to keep things calm and professional around the others. Also, he had much on his mind. Something Cid had said stuck with him. If the power of the Crystal Tower proved too great a threat, it would be necessary to return it to its state of suspension until such a time as the world was ready to handle its mysteries.

But when would that be? And would the blood of ancient Allag, the blood that flowed through his very veins, still be there to help with the unlocking?

His mind still clouded with such thoughts, he almost did not notice when T’lorna ducked into the new and larger tent that had arrived for them while she battled through the Labyrinth. G’raha had taken one day to move their possessions over and had set up and re-organized the mobile library. When he heard her moan softly as she reached for a tome on the top shelf, he glanced up and frowned.

“You are not hurt?” he asked.

“A few bruises,” she assured him. “Iron giants don’t go down easily for anyone. It’s nothing, G’raha. I’ve had worse falling out of trees.”

“Come, then,” he said softly, padding over to the bedding he’d set up. “Let me take a look at these bruises.”

T’lorna shrugged and then began removing her armor, setting it carefully into the chest near the entrance of the tent and then peeling off the padding she wore under it until she stood in just her small clothes, her back to him and her tail waving nervously. G’raha felt his mouth going dry at the sight of her standing before him but his attention was quickly diverted at the sight of the large, angry red bruises that marred her left side. Another series of bruises covered her right leg from knee to ankle. Scratches marked up the skin of her back. Moving slowly, he lifted his hands and began tracing them lightly over her injuries. He could feel heat wafting off them and winced.

“I’ll go get some salves to help you,” he whispered.

“They’ll heal on their own just fine. I tossed some healing spells on myself.”

“And I’m certain those spells are the only reason you were able to keep going and why these injuries are not more severe,” he replied, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice.

“I have to do what I can. I can rest later,” she said with a slightly defensive tone. “In the heat of combat, we all have to learn to live with a little pain.”

“I do not like seeing you suffering like this,” he sighed.

“I have healing salves in my bag,” T’lorna shrugged uncomfortably.

“I’ll get them.” G’raha went over to her shoulder bag and dug through it, finding the small container that housed her healing salves. Opening each vial and taking a whiff, he found the two that would be useful. One was a general heal-all salve for open wounds while the other was for bruises and deep pain. He turned to see T’lorna wringing a washcloth out over the ewer and basin and then running it over her body, taking a quick cat-bath. “Is that water more than cool?” he asked with a wince.

“It’s clean. That’s all that matters.”

“I really need to teach you some basic fire spells,” he huffed as he walked over and held his hand over the water, channeling heat into it.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she continued to wash off. “It’s nice to get the feel of the dungeon off my skin.”

“Here, I’ll get your back,” he offered as he picked up the washcloth he favored and gently wiped over her back, washing away the worst of the sweat, dirt, and dried blood. He hated the way she winced whenever he wiped over a particularly sensitive cut but knew it was better to get them cleaned out than to be overly gentle and have her fight off infection. When he was done, he tried not to think about how pink the water was as he let his fingers trail gently over the cuts. One particularly deep one – so deep he wondered if it might need to be sewn closed – bothered him. It ran from her left shoulder down across her spine, ending at the dip of her waist on the right.

“The iron giant caught me with the edge of its sweep,” she explained. “My armor will need to be repaired before I venture into the next part of this expedition.”

“Does it need sewing?”

“It might.”

“I’ll get the kit. Can you do it or should I ask Cid to patch me up?”

“I can do it,” G’raha muttered. He walked over to their sleeping area and pulled the blankets back so he could cover the padding with towels. He then ducked out of the tent to fetch a fresh bowl of water to use to keep the wound clean as he sewed it. When he returned, T’lorna was laying down on her stomach, her bra removed, waiting for him to begin. He fought down the heat rising in his face and forced himself to stay professional as he stitched closed the wound across her back. She bore the pain well, not even flinching. When he was done, G’raha wiped down her back again and then began spreading the healing salve over the wounds before washing his hands and applying the balm for her bruises. “All done,” he sighed, sitting back on his heels.

“Thanks,” she whispered hoarsely. “Mind turning around?”

“Oh no. You are not going to rip out my stitching with that,” he said before he had a chance to think. “Here, you can use my shirt again.”

“It’ll get dirty from the salve and the blood,” she pointed out.

“There’s a whole lake filled with water nearby. I daresay we could wash it.”

“Fair point. Turn around?”

G’raha did as asked and tried not to listen as she dressed. When she cleared her throat, he turned back to look at her and nearly choked. She was wearing her blue denim pants – the pants that fit far too tightly for him to want her to wear them in public – and his shirt. _His_ shirt. The hem fell half-way down her thighs and she was rolling back the sleeves so they did not cover her hands. It fit loose over her chest, the neckline hanging open over one shoulder and the lacings just barely closed enough to hide her breasts from view. His mouth dried completely and he found himself staring at her, wishing he could pull her into his arms and kiss her until she moaned.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked softly, a look of confusion clouding her sapphire eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he yelped, his voice tight with strain. “Just… nothing is wrong.”

“I’m going to go get something to eat. Shall I bring you something back?”

“No,” he repeated in the same strained tone. “I’ll be along shortly. I’m just going to clean up in here.”

“Good idea,” she nodded. “I’ll see you later?”

“Indeed.”

G’raha Tia heaved a sigh of relief when she stepped out of the tent and made her way down towards where the rest of Valhalla were camping out during this expedition. With any luck, she might decide to stay the night with her brothers and sisters of the Free Company and give him a chance to regain his increasingly-fractured composure. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, doing his best to dredge up every fact about Allagan history he could think of until he felt his pants loosening slightly.

“She doesn’t think of me like _that_ ,” he told himself firmly. “She’s easy around me because I remind her of the Tias of her tribe. She treats me the same way she would treat her brothers or cousins. That’s why she doesn’t mind sharing a tent with me or letting me tend to her wounds – and _how dare she_ hide those from me! How can she make light of them? If that cut had been just a little deeper, it could have severed her spine!”

He sat for a while longer, calming himself and reminding himself that she had made no moves that indicated she thought of him as aught but a friend. True, she had not protested the night spent in his arms but then she had been beyond exhausted. When he finally felt as if his blood had cooled enough, G’raha rose from the ground and ducked out of the tent to join the rest in dinner.

~*~*~*~

“Someone looks awfully glum,” Syris teased as T’lorna sat down between him and Geralin. “He’s letting you wear his shirt, I see.”

“Only because he had to sew up my back and putting my bra on would have torn the stitches,” she groused.

“He likes you,” Syris laughed. “He must really like you to be so patient. Me, if I liked you the way he does, I would have already seduced you.”

“No, you would not have,” Geralin sighed.

“He thinks of me as a sister or cousin.”

“That he does not, little sister,” Geralin said evenly. “You weren’t awake for it, but I saw how he looked at you when you were half-dead from exhaustion. That man is practically eating his heart out over you. Just kiss him and you’ll know.”

“I don’t know how,” she huffed. “I never was interested in doing anything like that with any of the boys who came to visit our tribe. I just wanted to be left alone to read or to talk to the animals or daydream. I didn’t even want to mess around with the other girls playing kissing games.”

“So, wait,” Syris said, gesturing for her to stop. He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re a virgin? I swear, I thought you Miqo’te lost your virginity as part of some coming-of-age ceremony. Every other Miqo’te I’ve known has had a string of lovers. Your people are remarkably open-minded about that.”

“Most do have lovers,” T’lorna shrugged uncomfortably. “The Tias are kept away from the breeding females but then, I was never a breeding female. I’m shaman-born.”

“Does that mean you may never…” Geralin asked, trying to find the most diplomatic way to say it.

“No,” T’lorna said, her face heating in a fierce blush. “It means that I would be married. Instead of being part of a nuhn’s harem of wives, I would be a nuhn’s sole wife. My father told me he intended to choose my husband carefully. He has a test any man must pass before we can be wed. Not that he’s ever found a man he considers worthy of me,” she sighed. “I guess I _will_ live my life alone.”

“I have a simple solution,” Syris muttered. “Drag G’raha Tia to your tribe. I’ll bet he can pass whatever test it is your father has. Then you two can get married!”

“I don’t think he wants to marry me,” T’lorna growled. “He’s never even tried to kiss me!”

“Well, to be fair, have you ever tried to kiss _him_?” Geralin asked patiently.

“I don’t know how!”

“It’s simple,” Syris laughed. “Press your lips against his.”

“We can discuss basic kissing techniques later,” Geralin whispered, leaning over so he could whisper in her ear. “For now, take our word for it. The man is head over heels in love with you. He may not realize it himself but I have rarely seen a man so in love with a woman as G’raha is with you.”

“Whatever,” she sighed.

Before either man could speak, Cid, Rammbroes, and G’raha Tia walked over to the trio and settled down. Each man had a bowl of stew in his hands.

“T’lorna,” Rammbroes said pleasantly, “G’raha has just been regaling me with your deeds in the Labyrinth. We decided to go ahead and call an _ad hoc_ meeting of NOAH to make certain that everyone is on the same page. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” T’lorna sighed, staring at her own bowl of stew and stirring it idly.

“Well,” Cid said, cutting in, “it seems that whatever unearthed the Tower did not merely make it accessible – it awoke it. And all of its dread defenses. If, as seems increasingly likely, the tower’s secrets should prove too dangerous to share with the world, we will have no choice but to contain them. Short of leveling the place, this will almost certainly involve returning the mechanisms to a state of dormancy. To do _that_ , however, we will first need to address the question of how they work – the answer to which must surely be waiting for us inside the tower itself. In conclusion: that is where we must go.”

“A task rather easier said than done, if the perils of the labyrinth are any indication…” G’raha said bluntly, his gaze fixed on T’lorna.

“Then I move that all further exploration of the tower be delayed until such time as an exhaustive analysis of the structure’s defenses has been completed,” Rammbroes declared. “Master Garlond, may I entrust this task to you?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Cid nodded.

“Well, everything seems to be in hand here, so I shall take my leave of you for the present,” G’raha laughed. “If I am to witness this valiant tale unfold with mine own eyes, I must needs hone my martial skills ere we ascend the spire!”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, G’raha,” Rammbroes replied, his tone firm but cold. “Your knowledge may prove useful to Master Garlond’s investigation.”

“As an observer, I am not, strictly speaking, subject to your authority…” G’raha argued. T’lorna glanced at him and nodded slightly. He was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest, his bowl of stew at his feet, and his mis-matched but gorgeous eyes hard with resolve. “Pray do not mistake my intent, T’lorna,” he explained to her, “I am well aware that I shall never be a match for one with your innate talents, however hard I train. Be that as it may, pray do not allow your skills to rust from disuse during the coming pause. We will need you fighting fit if our subsequent forays are to prove as productive as this one. Mark me: we have not yet caught more than the briefest glimpse of that which time has obscured. Soon, however, we shall cast off the veil, and gaze upon the glory of the Allagan Empire!”

“And with that encouraging thought in mind, it is time to bring this assembly to a close. Let us all focus on the tasks at hand, that our next expedition may begin all the sooner,” Rammbroes said loudly. “Meeting adjourned!”

With that, Cid and Rammbroes rose from their places and headed back into Saint Coinach’s Find. G’raha Tia rose as well but moved to sit next to T’lorna. “Pray forgive me my formality among the others,” he said, his voice pitched low and for her ears only. “But I beg of you, T’lorna, _rest_. I would not have you throw yourself into the Tower now while you are still so sorely wounded from battling your way through the Labyrinth of the Ancients.”

“I’ll be fine, G’raha,” T’lorna muttered. She hunched in further on herself, feeling embarrassed. “Truly, it’s just a…”

“If you say ‘it is just a scratch, I’ve had worse,’” he growled, “I will tie you to the bookshelf until _I_ think you have healed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos. It's nice to hear someone say they enjoy what you're doing, you know?


	7. The Eyes of Allag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And a bonus chapter for the comments! 
> 
> So, bets on whether or not the two will figure it out soon? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything in Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna sighed as she studied the massive doors that led into the Tower. G’raha sat further down the stairs leading up to the structure, a sketchpad across his lap, making a copy of the images engraved in gold on the doors. For weeks since clearing the Labyrinth of the Ancients they had studied the Tower from every conceivable angle trying to find a way to enter. For weeks, they had found nothing but frustration.

“They aren’t any kind of language,” T’lorna said, pitching her voice so that G’raha could hear her. “They just look like pictures.”

“That does seem to be all that they are,” he agreed as he continued to draw.

“I can’t make sense of the spell laid over the door,” she reported several minutes later. “It’s more than just magic. I think that it is tied into some of the machinery. I’ve probed it several times already and I can just about make sense of the… I don’t know… the shape? Of the mechanisms. They’re intricate. Still, you would think that it would be simple to figure out how to open a door. That’s what a door does; it opens and closes.”

“Do you think you could draw out what you’ve sensed?” G’raha asked, looking up from his sketchpad.

“I could try,” she said uncertainly. “I’m not certain if it would do any good, though. The spell – well, what little of it I can make sense of – seems to be waiting for a signal. Once the signal is given, the magic will throw the mechanisms into a state of opening.”

“Therefore, the question is ‘what is the signal?’” he mused.

“I’m going to move around to the side of the Tower to see if there is an unguarded storm drain or the like,” T’lorna muttered.

G’raha nodded absently as he continued to sketch. He glanced up at her and his breath caught in his throat. The sunlight was streaming down on her, setting her golden hair aglow. Her sapphire eyes were distracted as she stared at the blue crystal of the tower itself. A faint flush stained her cheeks and her full lips were pursed in thought. He fixed the image of her in his mind, of the way she stood with all her weight on one foot, her arms crossed under her breasts, her tail waving gently behind her and her golden ears twitching back and forth. She glanced down at him and gave him a bright smile before walking off in search of another way in.

Before he realized what he was doing, G’raha turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook and began drawing the object of his affections. He filled one page and then turned to another and continued to draw, filling page after page with images of T’lorna in various settings: studying with him in their tent, gazing up at the night sky and pointing out the constellations, working sword forms with Geralin and Syris, sleeping peacefully. By the time the light had faded until he could barely see, he’d nearly filled up his sketchbook with pictures of the Warrior of Light.

“Well,” T’lorna sighed as she came back around the front of the tower, “no other way in has magically appeared in the past week. Shall we head back to the Find with the rest of them?” she added, gesturing towards the small clusters of NOAH and the Sons who were making their way back towards the camp.

“I would have been surprised had something like that happened,” G’raha said wryly as he stood up, closed his sketchbook, and dusted the charcoal off his fingers. Tucking the large pad into his satchel, he walked towards T’lorna and took her hand in his, enjoying the way she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. The pair walked in silence back to the Find, comfortable enough around each other to be able to simply enjoy the act of being near each other.

As they drew near the Find, G’raha stopped and took T’lorna’s other hand in his. He stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to decide the best way to draw out their return or to suggest that they simply retire to their shared tent. Though he had spent most of the day in her company, G’raha felt as if he had not had enough time alone with the woman.

“T’lorna,” he said softly, his voice pitched low enough that she was forced to step in closer to him. G’raha’s hands settled on her hips, holding her close – but not too close – as he opened and closed his mouth several times. “I… maybe we should…” he lowered his face and tried to clear his thoughts. T’lorna started to lift her hands to his face but the sound of footsteps behind them made both Miqo’te jump apart and look around as a pair of Hyur came to stand before them. They were dressed oddly with twisted, spiking crowns atop their heads and brilliant scarlet eyes. G’raha stared at them, his jaw dropping open in shock.

“We have been sent by the Students of Baldesion to aid in gaining access to the Crystal Tower,” the woman said pleasantly. “I am Unei and this is my comrade Doga.”

“Unusual names for this day and age,” G’raha muttered to himself as he continued to study the newcomers. “We’ve received no word from the Students of Baldesion to expect other assistants. I should know – I was sent here by them myself.”

The Hyur shared a glance between themselves and then shrugged. “We can only assume that the message failed to reach you due to some mishap,” the man, Doga, said easily. “I assure you that we are here to help.”

A sudden pain struck G’raha and he bent over, clutching the right side of his head with a hand. T’lorna stared at him in concern. “G’raha?” she asked softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“‘Tis nothing,” G’raha said after a protracted pause. “There was… a pain, but it has subsided.”

“Well, well,” Unei said. “This is rather unexpected. Your right eye is the same as ours.”

“The same?” G’raha gasped. “You… You have the Allagan Eye as well? This sanguine hue is said to be a trait unique to the Allagans! Yet I inherited it from my father, as he did from his. Only one child in a single generation is born with the eye. All my life, I have sought to learn the truth of its manifestation. If there is aught else you know, I would implore you to tell me!”

“My deepest apologies,” Doga sighed, “but we have no answers for you. Only one thing is certain: those who possess the trait are bound by the fate of Allag. As your eye has placed you upon the path you walk, so too have we come here to fulfill our destiny. Absurd though it may sound, it is the truth.”

“Then we have naught to lose by accepting your aid,” G’raha said breathlessly. T’lorna squeezed his shoulder reassuringly – she could hear the disappointment in his voice at hearing that these two strangers had no new knowledge for him concerning his heritage. “What say you?” he asked her.

“I say they can be of use,” she shrugged. “Tomorrow we will head out to the Syrcus Tower to see what we can learn. Perhaps they will have information that will help us in gaining access to it and in disarming the guardians who are almost certain to be standing vigil inside.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Unei agreed. “We will return to Revenant’s Toll and meet you at the Eight Sentinels mid-morning.”

The two Hyur departed and G’raha found himself feeling awkward around T’lorna so he made his hasty apologies and headed down towards the bathing area set aside for the men. T’lorna watched him go with a wistful expression before shaking her own head and going to find something for dinner.

~*~*~*~

G’raha managed to keep his frustration to himself as he washed off, ate dinner alone, and then returned to the dark tent. He could sense T’lorna’s presence and, through the faint moonlight, could see the outline of her sleeping form in her sleeping roll. Ordinarily, he would have wondered at her decision to turn in so early but, considering the last few days, he understood why she was eager to sleep.

He pulled off his shirt, tugged off his boots and socks, unbelted his pants and stripped out of them, and then dropped down into his sleeping roll. Pulling his blankets over himself, he nestled in, scooting closer to T’lorna, and quickly fell asleep.

~*~*~*~

The corridors of the Crystal Tower were a maze that seemed to defy reason. G’raha Tia strode down them with confidence, feeling as if he alone knew every twist in the path and every nook and cranny of the Tower itself. In the distance, he could sense the presence of others exploring his tower. And it _was_ his. Something in the Tower called to him, sang in his blood, and gave him an awareness that no one else on Hydaelyn could ever understand.

He drifted through various rooms – the Oculus, the Umbilicus, the Imperial suites, the Control Chamber, the storerooms – noting their contents and purpose with satisfaction. Returning to the Oculus, he placed his hand on the mirrored wall and poured his will into it.

“T’lorna,” he whispered fondly, “show me where my heart is.”

The mirror flashed under his touch and he gazed into it, surprised to see a battle raging somewhere in Eorzea. Night was beginning to fall and he lost count of the flashes of light from Magitek weapons and from spells. Somehow he knew that, somewhere, in that mix of violence, T’lorna stood. He pressed harder against the cool surface of the mirror, willing it to show him the Miqo’te Warrior of Light who had stolen his heart so long ago.

It obeyed his wishes.

He screamed at what he saw.

T’lorna stood on a field alone, surrounded by the fallen. Vaguely, he thought he recognized some of the Scions. He nearly choked when he recognized Krile’s tiny form sprawled facedown in the dirt. Other fighters, warriors he knew from Valhalla, lay still or just barely clinging to life. T’lorna herself looked haggard, her golden hair wild and free of its customary tail, blowing in the wind, matted with sweat and streaked with blood. She no longer wielded her conjurer’s staff. G’raha could see the broken remnants of it at her feet. Instead, she held up a massive two-handed great sword and used it to try to keep her foe at bay.

It was her foe that made him scream.

She fought an enormous Allagan monstrosity. Somehow he _knew_ that it had been released from the Crystal Tower and that he had been unable to call it back. He knew that T’lorna had left to try to capture or destroy the monstrosity but had been unable to bring it to heel. She had been fighting for years now, struggling to hold the world together and protect it from the threats housed within the Crystal Tower.

And he had let her do so. He had not joined her in the field because his martial prowess was non-existent compared to those allies she could call upon. Instead, he had remained safe within the Crystal Tower, using its power and its resources to try to stem the flow of monsters swarming out from it ever since the Garleans had broken in.

G’raha watched the battle in the mirror, unable to tear his gaze away. T’lorna dodged, blocked, parried, and wove her way through the fight but gained no ground. Instead, she lost ground, was continually forced back, climbing over the bodies of the fallen.

Then, the final blow came. G’raha shrieked, his pain making the Tower itself shudder in sympathy. He watched as the Allagan creation – the thing _he_ had let loose on the world – struck T’lorna down, nearly cutting her in half.

“No,” he shouted. “No no no no no!” He began to tremble and shake violently…

G’raha’s eyes flew open and he realized he was shaking. T’lorna was shaking him, pleading with him to wake up. His face was buried in her chest and his arms were wound tightly around her. His tail had wrapped itself around her leg and he shuddered, pressing himself still closer to her, calming only after he inhaled the sweet smell of her living warmth.

“G’raha?” she asked softly, her fingers combing through his sweat-soaked hair and stroking his ears gently. She knew he had awakened since he was no longer crying out. “Are you all right?”

“Nightmare,” he gasped, his face still buried in her chest and his nose brushing against one of her collar bones. “Thank the gods, it was just a nightmare.”

“It must have been something terrible to have you in such a state,” she whispered. She let one hand drift down the back of his neck to rub at his shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he moaned, clutching her more tightly. “It was horrific. You were… I killed you. It was my fault. I let that thing lose and it killed you.”

“Ssh,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his head and kissing his ear. “It was just a dream. You would never do anything to hurt me or anyone else, G’raha.”

“I could never do it,” he groaned, still half-caught in the clutches of his nightmare. “I would never want to see you die. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you in it.”

She looked down at him, her fingers still rubbing his ear. He lifted his tear-stained face from her chest, gazing at her with red-rimmed, swollen eyes. His gaze seemed to plead with her to believe him, to help him dispel the last of the terror he’d dreamed up. She let her fingers drift down from his ear to his face, gently wiping the last of his tears away and stroking his cheeks. She bent down to give him a soft kiss on his forehead and felt him shudder again. She pulled back and looked at him, surprised at the half-lidded look of hunger in his still-swollen eyes. One of his hands began to skirt up her spine, his thumb caressing her cheek and his fingers tightening, pulling her face lower. She felt a hitch in her breath as her eyes fluttered shut and then a surge as G’raha pulled himself up so his face was even with hers. She could feel his breath tingling against her lips for a moment before he kissed her, pressing his full lips against hers.

She went rigid in shock at the unexpected jolt of pleasure that washed through her and the way that her body pressed itself against his, her arms tightening around him as he slowly kissed her, his lips working against hers. She felt his tongue flick against her lips and she parted them, nearly melting when he worked his tongue into her mouth. He turned, pulling her so that she lay on her back and he lay slightly over her, his warm weight a welcome comfort against her chest and his arms encircling her, holding her up only slightly, as he continued to pour his passion into the kiss. Her arms unwound from him slightly, her hands stroking up and down his back, flowing over his shoulders to rub down his chest, stopping to caress his neck, to card through his hair, to rub his ears. She smiled against his lips when she felt him begin to purr.

Then his hands began to move. He shifted so he lay more to her side and let his hands drift up the sides of her neck, his fingers gently stroking her cheeks, combing through her hair, one hand moving down her back to glide over her spine while the other drifted to her waist, his thumb running over the underside of her breast. She moaned against his mouth, fierce hunger searing through her. She threw herself into the kiss, praying that he would move his hands to touch her, to claim her, to…

“Not here,” he growled huskily, his voice thick and tight with strain. He moved back just enough so that their lips no longer touched but their breath still mingled. “Not like this.”

“G’raha?” she panted, opening her eyes. His eyes were still heavy-lidded with desire shining in them. “What’s wrong?”

“I will not take you here in a tent like this,” he growled even as he began to rut against her. “Our first time will be somewhere with a real bed. Somewhere where I can take my time and where you can enjoy it. Somewhere that will be _ours_ and ours alone.”

T’lorna started to say that she didn’t mind. That she wanted this. That she wanted _him_ here and _now._ But the fierce promise in his mismatched eyes stole the words from her.

“You… want me?” she asked hesitantly. “You want _me_?” she repeated, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Gods yes,” he groaned. She could feel the proof of his desire warm against her side. “Why should that surprise you?”

“I just… none of the young men who came to trade for women ever looked twice at me,” she said softly. “My sisters and cousins used to tease me about it. ‘What man wants a woman who talks to the deer she’s supposed to bring home for dinner? What man wants a woman who can name the stars? Your husband will be the moon, star-gazer.’”

“My sisters and cousins were much the same,” he admitted, shifting so that he lay on his back and pulling her so she was draped over his chest. He placed one hand on her shoulder and let his thumb rub over the join of her neck and shoulder while the other trailed up and down her back. “They laughed at my mis-matched eyes. When I spent most of my childhood learning all I could of Allag instead of chasing girls or clamoring for hunting stories, they said that my wife would exist only in books. But now, I think I’ve found someone truly special.”

“Me?”

“By Azeyma herself,” G’raha chuckled, “yes, you. After the Crystal Tower is secured, I will go stand before your father and face whatever trials he has in store for a Tia who would wed with his daughter. I just hope he won’t expect me to settle in with the tribe or marry your sisters.”

“Papa always said that he would find me a husband, not a Nuhn. He never thought any of the Tias who came to be tested were good enough for me.”

“My father always said I would be a husband, not a Nuhn. Perhaps this was meant to be,” he laughed as he lowered his lips to press against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me know what you think!


	8. The Tower Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check the rating change. Things heat up a bit in this chapter. Oh, who am I kidding? Things heat up *a lot* in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

The next morning, G’raha could not stop smiling. He’d spent the night in the arms of the most beautiful, wonderful woman in all of the world. Soon, once the Tower was secure, he would travel with her to La Noscea and stand trial before her father to prove himself worthy of the woman he wanted more than anything in the world. When the object of his affections came into view, his smile grew so large that his cheeks began to hurt.

“Good morning,” he said brightly as he walked over to her. “Did you sleep well?”

“After all that kissing? I slept like a baby,” she laughed softly, her own smile warm and bright as she strode over to him and took his hand in hers. “You?”

“After that dream? Well, once I knew for certain that you cared for me and wanted me just as much as I want you, sleep was difficult but restful once it arrived,” he chuckled.

“Get a room, you two!” Syris shouted from across the courtyard. T’lorna laughed and made a rude gesture before giving G’raha a quick peck on the cheek.

“Do you think they’ll be here soon?” she asked, gesturing back towards the Crystal Gate.

“Unei and Doga? I hope they will be,” G’raha sighed as he folded his arms over his chest to hide his agitation. “Let us go see how Cid is faring in his study of the door, shall we?”

T’lorna nodded and followed G’raha, looking over her shoulder to see if the two new arrivals were close at hand. As they neared the great doors, they saw Cid staring up at the golden engraving. His burly arms were crossed over his chest and he frowned at the doors as if that alone could somehow trip the mechanism and force them to open.

“Cid,” T’lorna called out as they drew closer. “Two new Students of Baldesion arrived last night and are coming to help us. I was wondering if you had seen them.”

“No such luck, old friend,” Cid replied. “But I welcome the aid. Oh, is that them now?” he asked, pointing to where two newcomers were making their way down the corridor.

“This is Unei and Doga,” G’raha introduced them when they drew close. The two red-eyed Hyur nodded politely towards Cid.

“We understand you’re having trouble circumventing the tower’s defenses,” Doga said calmly. “‘Tis our hope that we can be of some small assistance.”

“If your attire is aught to go by, your assistance should prove invaluable indeed,” Cid replied.

“The only clue we have concerning this door – the sole means of entry into the Syrcus Tower and the rest of the Crystal Tower beyond,” G’raha explained, “is the elaborate device carved upon it: a man and a woman, respectant. Allagan royalty, by my judgement. Precisely who these individuals were, we cannot say. Nor do we know whether the device actually serves a purpose. Like as not, it is purely decorative.”

Doga and Unei shared a glance with each other and then approached the doors, Doga moving to stand before the door with the man carved upon it while Unei stood before the door with the woman. The sound of metal ringing, of mechanisms waking and moving, filled the air. T’lorna glanced over at G’raha who was staring on in fascination.

“If you’re thinking to force it, save your strength,” Cid offered. “It’s no use – just as the calluses on my hands.”

Unei turned slightly, a small smile on her lips. “Rest assured we do not mean to waste our strength.”

“Indeed,” Doga said, his back to the group as he regarded the door in front of him. “Why should we exert ourselves… when the gate will open of its own accord?”

As one, the pair lifted their hands and began channeling their aether into the doors. Crystalline blue light appeared before them as their energies fed into the mechanisms and spells. Within seconds, the light flashed, flowing upward to the top of the doors and making the sigils of the two royal persons glow faintly with a sapphire shimmer. The doors then opened, part of the mechanism ascending into the ceiling while the doors themselves slid open like a pair of well-oiled machines.

G’raha’s jaw dropped open in shock and his ears went flat against the back of his head. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I… I don’t think any of us expected _that_ to happen…”

“Seven hells…” Cid swore softly. “What is this? What did you do? What… what _are_ you?”

_“Piercing the heavens and gather the light,_

_A symbol of mankind’s glory and might,_

_Its virtue guarded by gates impregnable,_

_Only to those of royal blood answerable,_ ” a voice that T’lorna had not thought to hear again – not after the Praetorium exploded – called out from further down the corridor. “Exactly as passed down through legend, I am delighted to see. Beg pardons for interrupting your bewilderment,” Nero tol Scaeva said with a grin that made T’lorna’s fingers itch to smash his face in. “I couldn’t help but notice the remarkable _playthings_ you have acquired.”

“N-Nero?!” Cid said in shock, “You’re still alive!?”

“Garlond, Garlond. If I didn’t know better, I would say you weren’t happy to see me. Ah, but I jest. In light of our recent meetings, you have every right to be wary. But rest assured I am no longer a threat to you. My legion is, for all intents and purposes, defunct, and my association with it means a tight noose awaits me back in Garlemald. And so I’ve been roaming this land, Eorzea, a regular itinerant. In the course of my wanderings, I chanced to catch wind of your latest venture. It sounded positively fascinating, and so I decided to come here and join you.”

“After the wrongs you’ve committed?” Cid scoffed. “You think us that gullible?” G’raha stepped closer to T’lorna. If this blond-haired stranger had earned Cid’s ire, he was not going to let the Garlean rogue come any closer to the Warrior of Light than necessary. T’lorna shifted slightly, keeping her path to Nero clear, but reaching out to grasp G’raha’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

“If you are suspicious of my intent, ‘tis only my just desserts. But I am determined to make amends. As a gesture of goodwill, I will share with you what I know… starting with _these_ two odd characters. As you are doubtless aware, the Crystal Tower was the symbol of ancient Allag’s might and prosperity. Entry was permitted only to royalty and a select few individuals. According to the recourse I have unearthed, only royal blood can open the gate. In other words, the emperor and his progeny were living keys.”

“You mean to say that these two are descended from Allagan royalty!?” G’raha gasped.

“Oh, I suggest nothing so glamorous,” Nero grinned, turning his head to the side. “To put it plain, they are _imitations_ of royalty – living keys born of Allagan ingenuity. ‘Clones,’ I believe, is the name your creators gave your kind, is that not so?” He directed his last remarks at Doga and Unei. The pair shared another look – this one sad.

“‘Twould seem that the time for concealment is past,” Doga sighed. He turned to look T’lorna and G’raha in the eyes. “Pray accept our apologies. ‘Twas not our intent to deceive. We simply wished to avoid causing undue alarm by prematurely making what many would consider deranged claims.”

“If it please you,” Unei said calmly, “let us return to the Eight Sentinels. There is much and more to tell.”

G’raha squeezed T’lorna’s hand and smiled at her before turning back to face the clones.

“Very well,” he grinned. He and T’lorna began leading the others out. Behind him, he heard Cid speak.

“Seven hells, do you _seriously_ mean to follow us around?”

Glancing over their shoulders, the two Miqo’te could see the two Garleans arguing.

“Come, Garlond. You know me better than to think that I spoke in jest. What more will it take for us to be reconciled? A gift, perhaps?” Nero reached into one of the pockets of his trenchcoat and pulled out a stone. “An Allagan tomestone. It holds the information I just shared with you, and a deal more besides. It used to be the jealously guarded property of the XIVth Legion, but now it’s yours. I wish you joy of it. I look forward to working together, old friend.”

“I still don’t trust him,” T’lorna groused. “He wants something and he must want it very badly to be here.”

“You’ve had a run in with this fellow before?” G’raha asked, pitching his voice low so that it would not echo through the cavernous corridor.

“Yes. In the Praetorium. We fought him after listening to him whine on and on about how Cid always one-upped him and how he hated Cid and how now he was finally going to show everyone just who was the better man,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “Before we could kill him, he ran off. I’d thought him lost in the explosions that leveled the place – Thancred and I barely made it out of there alive ourselves. But here he is.”

“I’ll keep my eyes on him,” G’raha promised. “No grasping Garlean is going to turn this Tower against you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I know,” she smiled, a smile that said everything, “I trust you.”

A few moments more saw them step out of the darkness of the corridor and into the bright light shining down on the Eight Sentinels. The group moved over to a relatively empty section and the two clones turned to speak.

“If you are ready to listen,” Doga said as Cid, G’raha, T’lorna, Nero, Biggs, and Wedge gathered around them, “we shall tell you all. Before we begin, pray allow me to apologize again. It was not our intent to deceive you. As you will have already gathered, we are not scholars sent by the Students of Baldesion. Nay, we are ‘clones’ – copies of people who once existed, given life through Allagan technology.”

“This is rather a lot to take in,” G’raha sighed. “If it would not be considered unseemly, might I ask why you and yours were created? And more specifically, what is it that you now seek to do?”

“Answering your question requires that we revisit Allagan history. Pray bear with us,” Doga replied. G’raha grinned eagerly, anxious to learn more of his heritage, and nodded.

“The Allagan Empire reached its zenith long before our kind came into being,” Unei began. “In that glorious age, the Crystal Tower stood tall as a symbol of Allagan pride. Parents took their children there, that they might learn how the nigh-limitless energy it produced brought prosperity to the whole empire.”

“That prosperity, however, bred decadence,” Doga picked up where his partner left off. “And the empire began to show signs of stagnation. This decline was made all the more rapid for want of strong leadership. In a matter of generations, the Allagan civilization became a pale shadow of its former self. Its once gleaming cities fell into disrepair, and its frontier lands were given over to the wilderness.”

“Lamenting the pitiful state of affairs, one technologist made it his mission to restore Allag to greatness,” Unei continued. “Amon was his name, and he believed that the ailing empire wanted for but a potent ruler. And none was more potent than its founding father, whom he sought to resurrect.”

“The founding father?” G’raha said loudly. “You cannot mean Emperor Xande!?”

“None other,” Unei answered. “As part of his experiments, Amon created clones of the emperor’s descendants. We are the products of that experiment – copies of Unei and Doga.”

“Historical texts do mention the reigns of two Allagan emperors named Xande,” T’lorna mused to herself. “We’ve always thought that the second was the namesake of the first. After all, such a custom is not uncommon among royalty and commoners alike. To think that the two were in fact one and the same…” G’raha grinned at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders fondly. He had not realized just how deeply into Allagan history he had led the Warrior of Light.

“Aye,” Unei agreed. “Xande returned from the grave and assumed his throne once more. And true to Amon’s prediction, the emperor restored his realm to the glory it once knew. Would that he could have been satisfied with that…”

“In his previous life,” Doga explained, “the emperor desired to bring the entire world under Allagan dominion – an ambition that ultimately went unfulfilled. Having been granted a second chance, he was determined to succeed. Realizing that he needed more power to wage his war of conquest, Xande turned his sights towards a forbidden source: darkness. In order to learn how to harness this power, he converted the Crystal Tower into a restricted research facility.”

“Darkness… _again_? Seven hells, what is it with megalomaniacal rulers turning to darkness in their lust for power?” Cid groaned. “Well, at least this one won’t be bothering us, being thousands of years dead and all.”

“Would that you were right, Master Garlond,” Doga sighed. A collective hiss came from the crowd around the clones. “Alas, Emperor Xande is very much alive. Within Syrcus Tower he still abides, his ambition burning all the more ardently for his empire’s collapse. Wielding the power of darkness requires prodigious amounts of energy – energy that not even the Crystal Tower could produce. In order to augment the shortfall, Dalamud was created and launched into the heavens. On high it hung, gathering the sun’s energy and channeling it into the tower below. However, a miscalculation resulted in a surge of energy that escaped into the land. This triggered an earthquake of unprecedented violence – the calamity that ushered in the Fourth Umbral Era. In the blinking of an eye, the mighty Allagan Empire was laid to waste. Yet, even as the Crystal Tower was sinking into the earth, the technologist Amon, now Emperor Xande’s closest aide, invoked powerful magicks and halted the flow of time. Every soul within the structure, the emperor included, was placed in a deep slumber. In that state they were to remain until the time was ripe to awaken.”

“Eras came and went,” Unei picked up, giving her partner a chance to rest. “After millennia lying dormant, Dalamud was summoned back to the earth. Its descent triggered the Seventh Umbral Calamity, in the wake of which the Crystal Tower reemerged. At that moment, Emperor Xande awakened. In his lust for power, the emperor consorted with darkness and was seduced by its corrupting influence. Even though his empire is now little more than a fading memory, he will stop at nothing to see his ambition realized. ‘Tis for no other purpose but to put an end to Xande’s madness that we exist. This is the mantle we have inherited from our namesakes – the true Unei and Doga. Fearing what might befall the world, the two of them sought to thwart their emperor. They gave unto us their will, that we might carry on their mission should they fail.”

“When we came to our senses within the Crystal Tower, we deliberated a course of action. Concluding that we alone could not overcome Xande, we struck out to find a worthy ally. It has taken years, but our search is finally over,” Doga said firmly. “‘Tis no ordinary woman who can cut a path through the Labyrinth of the Ancients. With you as our champion, T’lorna Zhiki, we are confident that we can end Xande’s dark ambition once and for all.” G’raha’s hold on her tightened slightly and he gazed at her, his look full of worry. She nodded to the clones in agreement.

“Well, that’ll teach me for speaking too soon…” Cid huffed. “Setting my chagrin aside, I see now why you knew about the Students of Baldesion among a host of other things – you were observing our investigation the whole time. So, what will we do, T’lorna? The world’s in grave danger again, and it just so happens you’re an expert at saving it.”

“If you need me, then I am for you,” she promised softly.

“You have our eternal gratitude,” Doga answered. “Together, let us see the Allagan Empire’s dark past laid to rest."

“It has been our mission to recover the long-lost knowledge of the Allagan civilization. But what worth is that knowledge if it means subjecting the realm to peril?” G’raha said into the sudden quiet. His voice was low but everyone around him could hear the pain and resolve within it. “Truth be told, it pains me to think that the tower’s secrets may become lost to us, but the greater good must ever come first. Besides, no quantity of ancient relics can compare to our friends Unei and Doga – living, breathing Allagans. And so I hereby declare a change in NOAH’s objective. Henceforth, we shall direct all efforts towards sealing off Syrcus Tower. Its dark secrets must never know the light of day. T’lorna, as you did for us within the Labyrinth of the Ancients, I would have you enter the structure and eliminate hostile elements. Suffice it to say this includes Emperor Xande himself,” he added, his mis-matched eyes twinkling with both fear and pride. “Meanwhile, the rest of us shall examine ways to isolate Syrcus Tower from the outside world. To work, then!” The group began to disperse, Unei and Doga moving to head back towards Saint Coinach’s Find. G’raha held up a hand, halting them, and then lowered his face, gathering his thoughts. “Wait,” he begged. “There is something I must know. My right eye is like yours. Does… does this mean…?”

“You inherited the trait from your father, you said,” Doga replied. “Know that clones are unable to bear offspring. You have no cause for concern. The Allagan Eye, you called it, but to us it is the Royal Eye, owing to the fact that the trait manifests only in those possessed of royal blood.” G’raha slowly lifted his face to look at the clones. “I cannot well explain why the eye runs in your line, but I am disinclined to think it a coincidence. Though you are doubtless impatient to learn the truth, pray have patience. All will be revealed in due time.”

G’raha nodded and, putting his arm back around T’lorna’s shoulder, began to walk off with her. The two walked in silence for a long while, making their way back towards the Find. Finally, as they neared the camp were the Sons of Saint Coinach, Valhalla, and NOAH were gathered, he stopped.

“Are you all right, G’raha?” T’lorna asked, concern clear in her blue eyes.

“My apologies if I’ve given you cause to worry,” he sighed, settling his hands on her hips and drawing her in close. “I am quite well, I assure you. As you can appreciate, there has been much for me to think on. But now is the time for action,” he grinned, “not idle thoughts. Syrcus Tower awaits us!”

~*~*~*~

“This is exactly what I signed up for when I left home to become an adventurer,” Syris chortled that evening as he and the other battle leaders from Valhalla sat around a campfire. “Exploring the world, finding new challenges, and beating the seven hells out of them.”

“I’m just in this for the laughs,” Geralin chuckled.

“I’m in it to learn everything,” T’lorna quipped. Next to her, G’raha nearly choked on his food. “And to find the best books.”

“You and your books,” Syris groused. “We tried to count your collection back at the house.”

“Oh? Did you manage it?”

“Nah. Got bored after the first thousand. Jin wonders just how you managed to rig the shelves to rotate so cleanly. Lokira wants a copy of your organizational scheme so she can build her own library.”

“Wait,” G’raha said, setting his food down so he could gesture. “How many books do you have?”

“Scattered across my various rooms?” T’lorna asked. “Honestly, I don’t know. Probably close to five thousand. What?” she asked. “I like to read.”

“Yeah, someone likes to read at night because she’s not doing anything better,” Syris teased. Without looking at the Elezen, T’lorna calmly reached into her pocket, pulled out a bag of stinkweed, and threw it at him. He began sputtering and coughing when the bag struck him between the eyes.

“I think he’s learned his lesson,” Geralin sighed. “The two of you do make a cute couple.”

T’lorna blushed and G’raha laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to sit flush against him. “I am fortunate enough that she finds me agreeable. Once this is over, I believe a trip to La Noscea will be requisite.”

“Wait until Jinpu finds out,” Syris coughed. “I hope you can duck and dodge because he tends to get a little slashy if he doesn’t think you are good enough…”

“Jinpu thinks G’raha is an excellent choice,” Geralin muttered. “The rest of the free company has been quietly making plans for the inevitable wedding. Or beatdown if you _dare_ hurt her,” he added, giving G’raha a warning glare. “We drew numbers. I’m number three.”

“What number am I?” Syris asked sullenly.

“You’re number three with me.”

“Ah.”

“I swear by the Warden herself,” G’raha said in a serious tone, “so long as it is within my power, I will never harm T’lorna. If I do, I will put up no resistance to the beating you feel fit to administer to me.”

“See that you don’t,” Geralin said firmly. “Because, once Valhalla gets done with you, I imagine that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn will have their own beatings to administer.”

“Enough about that,” T’lorna huffed. “If anything happens between us, it will _stay_ between us. Understood? Good,” she said when all three men nodded at the authoritative tone in her voice. “Now, let’s discuss just how we’re going to clear out the Syrcus Tower tomorrow.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna stretched languidly the next morning, smiling at the way that G’raha curled himself around her more tightly. They’d spent the night in each other’s arms, kissing and cuddling until they fell asleep. Though she’d wanted _more_ , she was content to wait until they could be some place truly private for she had little idea what to expect beyond the bare mechanics.

Disentangling herself from the man, T’lorna rose and dressed quickly. She knew that G’raha might not rouse for hours yet – the sky was just beginning to pearl with the beginnings of false dawn. Idly, she wondered if she had gotten more than a few bells of sleep as she fastened her leather armor over her clothing and plucked her staff from where it stood propped next to G’raha’s bow. Ducking out of the tent, she hurried to where a light breakfast was being cooked.

“I’m surprised we didn’t have to come drag you out of your bedroll,” Jinpu teased as he shoved a bowl of porridge and sausage into T’lorna’s hands. “Eat up. You’re going to need it if what we’ve learned is even half-true.”

“I know,” she sighed, wishing for fruit instead. She rarely ate a heavy breakfast, usually satisfying herself with fruits and bread or, at most, a bowl of plain porridge. Still, if what Doga and Unei told them held true, they had four great battles ahead of them.

“Did you exhaust him last night?” Jinpu asked, glancing at the tent she shared with G’raha. “Because, if you did, you both are _remarkably_ quiet.”

“No,” she muttered, her face heating with embarrassment. “We just kissed. That’s all.”

“Do I need to explain the birds and the bees to you, to him, or to both of you?” the jet-haired Miqo’te sighed.

“Trust me,” she grimaced, “we know what to do. We just don’t want to do that in the middle of the entire camp. Most of NOAH still doesn’t know that he and I are aught but fellow scholars. And I’d like to keep it that way for now.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep your secrets,” Jinpu promised. “I will also chop him into little, itty, bitty, bloody pieces if he hurts you.”

T’lorna wisely said nothing. Her “brothers” in Valhalla would do what they thought was best regardless of her wishes in the matter. Instead, she focused on eating the heavy porridge and then, when the last of the bowls were cleaned and stowed away, she and the others made their way through the sleeping crystalline landscape of Mor Dhona.

Only a handful of night-shifters were milling about the base of the Syrcus Tower. They glanced up and then returned to their work, knowing that the fighters were going to begin their grisly business inside the tower proper. T’lorna and the other magi hung back until the last of the fighters were in before engaging the spells that would keep anything from leaving the tower until the same group came back and disengaged it. People could enter, but they could not leave.

“Let’s get moving,” she said, gesturing deeper into the tower proper.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed as she and the others engaged the spell that would seal off the pit where their first challenge, Scylla, waited. Signaling Geralin, Syris, and Lokira that it was safe to engage, she and the others took up position where their spells could easily reach the fighters and the monstrous three-headed dragon. The records they had found indicated that the platform housing the beast held the keys to defeating it. When the different shields were charged, they would allow whoever was attempting to control the creature to survive its most devastating attack. Beyond that, Scylla would use elemental-based attacks to make life difficult for those fighting it.

The battle began and T’lorna had her hands full focusing on Geralin. He’d taken point in the fight and had Scylla’s attention focused on him while the other two did their best to ensure that, should Geralin fall, the creature would be forced to focus on one of them and not someone else. T’lorna poured her energy into shielding Geralin and keeping a constant renewal spell wrapped around the paladin that would ensure that, no matter how long the fight dragged on, he would have plenty of energy to keep going.

Then the _fun_ began.

Elemental orbs appeared near various members of Valhalla who moved quickly to have them collide with the lightning rods in order to charge the three defensive shields. T’lorna kept one eye on those tethered by an orb, throwing a quick shield around them to keep them from being impacted too harshly by the magic. Whenever she noticed that one of the ice orbs had struck an ally, freezing them into place, she cast a renewal over them to keep them from freezing to death while a fire orb was brought close to thaw them out.

Soon, the shields were all charged. The fighters were still pummeling away at the three-headed dragon who seemed to realize that her tricks were not working. Scylla lifted her heads and roared as she began readying her most potent attack.

“Shields now!” Geralin shouted, his voice carrying over the din of battle. The fighters split into three pre-agreed-upon groups and hurried to their places, hunkering down behind the magical shields while Scylla threw her power over the arena. The shields held, then faltered and faded as her power drained them. As she cast her spell, swarms of other creatures appeared from the aether, summoned by Scylla to try to take care of these upstart, annoying creatures until her spell could flash over them.

The fight continued on with spells flying wildly. Finally, though, Scylla wavered and collapsed in a heap. Geralin’s legs went out from under him and T’lorna settled to the ground as gracefully as she could.

“Now that,” Jinpu said, panting for breath as he laid down on the floor of the arena, “is how we start our mornings.”

“Yeah,” Syris agreed. “Now let’s just catch our breath and get through the rest of this place so we can go have lunch.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha woke and stretched languidly, reaching blindly for T’lorna and then sitting up in surprise when he found her half of the blankets empty and cold. He rose and opened the tent flap, flinging a hand up to shield his face from the bright sunlight that streamed in. Glancing around the Find, he saw that all of Valhalla’s tents were empty and that the members of NOAH and the Sons of Saint Coinach were taking them down and loading them onto carts and chocobos.

“How long have they been gone?” the Miqo’te wondered to himself as he hurried back into the tent and got dressed. Stamping his feet down into his boots and slinging his bow over his back, he hurried out to find Cid. The Garlean was glancing around as if looking for something or someone and brightened when he spotted G’raha.

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Valhalla went to the tower before dawn. They thought to steal a march on anyone who might be inside. We’re moving the expedition base camp to the Eight Sentinels. It makes more sense to be closer to the Tower as we explore it, after all. You’ll need to pack up your tent and see to getting everything from it loaded to move.”

“But…”

“I know, you want to go and make certain T’lorna’s safe. We all do, son. But we need to take care of business and not bother her and the others while they are fighting. From what we know, they’ve got a lot of work cut out for them and will be questioning any inhabitants of the Tower they can convince to talk instead of fight. It would be best for those of us who are not combat experts to stay out of their way and let them do what they need to do without worrying about us. So. Pack up the tent.”

“Fine,” G’raha groused. “But next time I _will_ be going with her.”

“Pack up the tent and then go practice fighting gigas,” Cid shrugged. “If you want to keep up with her and the rest of Valhalla, you’ll need to hone the skills you have.”

Growling to himself but knowing that Cid was right, G’raha ducked back into the tent and began to pack everything away. The hours spent doing this and the lifting would give him a workout and then, once the tent and its contents were on their way to the Eight Sentinels, G’raha _would_ go out and hone his combat skills against any enemies he could find in Mor Dhona.

“Next time I _will_ be going with her,” he promised himself quietly. “I will.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna glanced up dully at Geralin. She and the others were exhausted and the paladin was none-too-steady on his feet. The Elezen half-sat, half-fell in front of her, his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

“That last fight,” she said, her voice shaking just as much as Geralin’s arms.

“He was insane,” the Elezen sighed, giving up on sitting and choosing to lay down on his back with as much grace and dignity as he could muster. “I don’t know if he realized he was fighting anyone or if he thought we were all just… playthings… for his amusement.”

T’lorna nodded. They’d spent the entire day fighting their way through the Syrcus Tower and had just defeated the second-to-last guardian, putting them on the path to Xande himself. She glanced up through the crystalline structure, unsurprised to see that it was well-past sunset.

“I don’t know that any of us have the energy to do anything more than crash and sleep where we fall,” the Miqo’te muttered, too exhausted to even do that much. She closed her eyes, opening them only when she heard footsteps wandering nearby.

“By the Twelve,” she thought she heard G’raha mutter. Clearly, she must be dreaming. “They’re all dead asleep.”

“I imagine they’ve earned the right to pass out cold,” she thought she heard Cid say with a tone of amusement.

“Based on the wreckage they left in their wake, I’d say that Cid is correct. They have earned the right to a good nap.”

“T’lorna?” she heard in her dreams. She smiled softly. She loved G’raha’s voice. It was so soft, a warm baritone that sent a tingle up her spine. She loved the way he purred against her when they were kissing. “My, you _are_ exhausted,” he laughed. She thought she felt herself being lifted up into warm, strong arms but she couldn’t tell if it were real or if it were a dream. Sighing, she decided to snuggle into the warm chest, inhale the scent of the man she loved, and let herself burrow deeper into this strange dream.

~*~*~*~

G’raha chuckled softly to himself as T’lorna nestled against his chest. This was the second time he had found her so worn out that she was almost completely unaware of what was going on around her. This time, however, it did not seem to be anyone’s fault in particular. She had, obviously, participated in a great number of battles over the course of the day and it was only natural that, come evening, she would be more than merely tired.

“Whatever am I to do with you, my love?” he whispered to her, his lips gently touching her temple as he carried her to a clear space. He laid her on the ground and then reached around to his back, unslinging the bedrolls he’d brought for both of them. Other members of NOAH and the Sons of Saint Coinach were likewise rolling out bedding for the warriors of Valhalla and tucking them in. G’raha had insisted on bringing his own bedding and that of T’lorna so that she could “rest comfortably.”

He managed to get her armor off, leaving her only in her underwear, and then got her wedged between the floor padding and the covers. Then, he stripped down to his own smalls before tucking himself in behind her, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close as he listened to her steady, even breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, not quite sleepy but knowing that he needed to sleep, “you will face Emperor Xande. And, Twelve willing, I will at least be nearby to support you should need it. For now, rest, my love, my inspiration. Rest and regain your strength. And know that, sometime soon, I will be ready to be at your side in battle always.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna dreamed. She dreamed of crystalline blue towers and strong arms wrapped around her. She dreamed of G’raha’s soft lips pressed against hers. She dreamed of his teeth digging into her shoulder, claiming her. She dreamed of feeling him move inside her. Of him purring, hissing, groaning, and screaming her name as she ground against him…

“Stop that,” a rough, beloved voice growled against the back of her neck. “This is neither the time nor the place for such things, my love.”

T’lorna found herself purring softly as she pressed against something warm, strong, and familiar. She breathed in his unique scent, smiling as she opened her eyes. Her smile quickly turned to a frown when she realized that they were not in a tent – they were laying out in the open surrounded by the rest of Valhalla and with dozens of researchers wandering about.

“When did you get here?” she asked softly, keeping herself perfectly still.

“Late last night. Most of you were passed out from exhaustion when we arrived. The Sons of Saint Coinach decided to get all of you tucked in so you could rest and a few adventurers from Revanant’s Toll were called in to provide guards. How did you manage to fight yourself to such a stupor?”

“Because, once we got past Scylla, it was pretty much fight, retreat, or die,” she sighed. “We had no downtime between fights. This place was packed full of nasty creatures. The spell to stop time must have been limited only to the tower complex,” she muttered. “Else we’d have faced this same problem in the Labyrinth.”

“Well, it is good to know that you needed only a few hours of rest to recover,” G’raha sighed, tightening his hold on her. “There is only the founding father left to face. I… I would be there with you, if you would permit.”

“You may watch,” she said, placing a slight emphasis on the last word. “G’raha, I love and respect you but you are no warrior. You and the others may watch from a safe distance as we fight to defeat Emperor Xande. I would not have you throw your life away because you do not know our signals, our strategies, or our tempo. Perhaps, once you have gotten used to fighting and have faced down several battles within Valhalla, I will feel more confident having you in the field. Until then, I would ask that you stay away.”

“I can fight, T’lorna. I am not so bad with a bow…”

“I know that,” she said softly, turning in his arms so she could face him. “I do not doubt your skills with your weapon of choice, my G’raha. I doubt only your ability to fight as part of a cohesive team.”

“I can…”

“Those of us in Valhalla have worked together for over a year,” she continued. “It would take you several weeks, if not months, to get into the rhythm we have with each other. And, until you are part of that rhythm, you are more a liability to us on the battle field than you are an asset, no matter how skilled with your weapon of choice you may be.”

G’raha lay silent, his brow furrowed as he considered her words. T’lorna said nothing, letting her hands card through his hair as he thought over her words. Finally, he huffed in acquiescence. “Very well,” he grimaced, his lips turning down in a frown of anger. “I will accept what you say. For now. But after Xande has been defeated and the Crystal Tower is ours, I will spend hours each day working with Valhalla until _they_ judge me worthy of joining the field of battle alongside them.”

“Once Jinpu has accepted you in that role,” T’lorna agreed, kissing him lightly on the chin, “I will welcome you as a companion in battle as well as my love.”

“With you as my inspiration,” G’raha laughed softly, “I will be fighting alongside you ere long.”

“That is my sincerest wish,” T’lorna grinned as she put her hands on his shoulders and levered herself up so she could kiss him full on the mouth.

~*~*~*~

Geralin and Syris shared a glance as they and the rest of Valhalla studied Xande. The emperor, oversized and puissant beyond their wildest guesses, sat atop his throne. He glared out at the would-be upstarts who had fought their way through his traps and his allies. He looked almost bored as he considered these tiny, pathetic mortals who had come to threaten him.

“He’s so… big,” T’lorna hissed.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Jinpu said with his customary optimism. “Seriously, I’ll bet that he falls hard enough to make the entire _tower_ shake.”

“Be that as may,” Geralin sighed, “he is still going to be a difficult opponent.”

“Yeah, but that just means that beating him will be all the sweeter,” Syris replied. “Let’s do this!”

“Are you ready?” Jinpu asked the rest of Valhalla’s fighters and forces who were arrayed behind the four primary warriors.

“Let’s do it,” came the general consensus.

“The sooner this is done, the better,” T’lorna muttered. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The fighters stepped into the area that marked out the throne room. Xande, as Jinpu had remarked, sat larger than life atop the imperial throne. He held his chin in his hand and regarded the tiny, pathetic mortals with a bored air. T’lorna closed her eyes and prayed to the Twelve that they would be on the side of the morals fighting today and would work to ensure that the corrupt, shadow-obsessed emperor would fall this day.

The Emperor waited until the fighters had entered his throne room before waving his hand, causing the doors to slam shut and lock. He then rose from his throne and walked into the center of the large, circular room.

“So, you come to challenge me,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the air like thunder. “You fight valiantly, mortals, but to no avail. Absolute darkness draws nigh. Soon it will be unleashed, and all shall return to nothingness.”

“You will not destroy our world, Xande!” T’lorna shouted. She could feel the Light itself welling within her, almost overpowering her. Her words no longer seemed to come from her own heart or mind – instead, it seemed that some greater agent – something greater even than the Twelve themselves – had made her its mouthpiece. “We will fight you. The world itself will oppose you.”

“Your words are so much wind, little cat. Come, back them with steel. Be the first to fall ere eternal night covers this land!”

With that, Xande raised his staff and began to attack.

The Emperor’s attacks were backed by the incredible power of the Tower itself. His spells hit with a ferocity that made the hair on the back of everyone’s neck stand on end from the sheer amount of aether packed behind them. T’lorna drew on the burgeoning Light within her and used it to power her own spells. Her shields had just enough extra energy behind them to keep the power from the Tower from incinerating the rest of Valhalla.

“Keep him distracted!” Geralin shouted as he and Syris traded off attacks. Spells, missiles, and strikes flew, hitting the founding father of the Allagan Empire. He swore and growled in anger as the attacks quickly broke through his resistance.

“Mine is the power of darkness!” Xande roared. “Even the stars must bend to my will!”

T’lorna glanced up and her jaw dropped in shock. Miniature meteors began to rain down in the throne room. Quickly, she drew on the energy coursing through her and shielded as many of the Valhalla warriors as she could. They moved quickly, flinging spells and missiles at the meteors before the celestial rocks could strike the floor in an explosion of violence. Xande roared in anger at seeing his attacks thwarted and redoubled his efforts against the pathetic mortals.

“I shall crush all who dare oppose me!” he screamed as he summoned another round of meteors. Well-prepared for this tactic, the fighters moved quickly to intercept and destroy them. The battle raged on until, at last, Xande faltered and collapsed to his knees. “Fools!” he roared as his energy and aether gave out.

The barriers sealing off the Throne Room dissipated as Xande’s corpse vanished into dark, shadowy aether. T’lorna turned slightly, hearing footsteps echoing in the distance.

“T’lorna!” G’raha shouted as he, Cid, Doga, and Unei ran into the throne room. She turned to face him, a faint smile on her lips. He ran up to her and placed his hands on either side of her neck, leaning in close. “You did it,” he breathed, his breath a sweet spring scent on her face. “You defeated Emperor Xande!” She leaned in slightly, inhaling deeply. Part of her wanted nothing more than to card her fingers through his hair, caress his ears, and press her lips against his in front of everyone. Still, she held herself back, hearing Doga begin to speak.

“Empires may rise and fall, but man’s indefatigable spirit ever lives on. Truly, you are the champion we had hoped for, T’lorna Zhiki,” the clone said triumphantly. She smiled, her dark sapphire eyes boring into G’raha’s mismatched eyes with affection, as Doga continued. “With Emperor Xande now at eternal rest, his dark legacy may be undone.”

A metallic ring filled the air as Nero sidled up. “What are you playing at now, Nero?” she heard Cid say even as she closed her eyes and let her head come to rest in the hollow of G’raha’s shoulder.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Garlond,” Nero muttered, “these are dangerous surrounds. Can a man be faulted for exercising due caution? At any rate, you needn’t mind me. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Go on and finish what you came to do.”

“There are two ways that we may seal off Syrcus Tower,” Unei said as Nero walked off a pace. “Either isolate it from the outside world or cripple its ability to produce energy. The choice of method is yours to make. Before you proceed, however, Doga and I must needs attend to a task.”

T’lorna grinned as G’raha tightened his hold on her, his hands sliding down her arms to wrap around her waist and pull her in flush to his chest. It seemed that it was finally over. The Tower was secure. There was no more need to worry. She let her eyes fall closed as she breathed in G’raha’s comforting scent. His hands caressed her back even as he spoke.

“That distortion?” he asked. “What is it?”

“The power that Xande sought to obtain comes from the void,” Unei answered. “The World of Darkness, our people called it. And the true nature of that power was none other than the armies of voidsent.”

“Voidsent feed on aether, as you may already know, and no plane is richer in it than ours,” Doga continued. “In exchange for their allegiance, Xande entered into an unholy covenant. He would open a gate through which the voidsent could freely enter our world. The covenant, I’m afraid to say, is still in effect.” T’lorna felt G’raha’s arms tighten around her protectively and felt him hiss into her hair. “However, being of the emperor’s lineage, Unei and I believe that we can annul it.” She smiled slightly as she felt his hold loosen. “By his blood Xande sealed his dark pact. By our blood shall it be undone. It is time,” he added, speaking to his sister.

“Yes, Doga,” she agreed. “Finally, we may fulfill our purpose.” T’lorna turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder even as she enjoyed feeling G’raha’s hands moving up and down her back. The clones were channeling their aether into a tiny shadowy distortion near the now-empty throne. As they poured their energies out, Nero began to laugh.

“Oh, be still my beating heart,” the Garlean cheered. “For a moment, I feared that this outing would end in disappointment, but my readings were not mistaken! Not even the Ultima Weapon compares to this!”

The clones ceased their channeling as Cid huffed. “What are you going on about?!” he demanded of Nero.

“The covenant is everlasting,” a deep, dark voice filled with shadow said. T’lorna turned to stare at the slight opening into the void even as G’raha tightened his hold on her. The opening expanded, tripling in size. Voidsent monstrosities, matching Unei and Doga in size, appeared around the empty throne room. T’lorna groaned, clutching her head, as the Echo washed over her and sent her into the past.

The Emperor sat on his throne, regarding the many Unei and Doga clones as they knelt before him. “And so Meracydia is brought into the fold,” he muttered. “Soon, all the world shall be united under Allagan rule. And yet… with every dream that becomes reality, the memory of death grows ever more vivid – an endless void, bereft of light and warmth. Thought I may have defeated death, it did not leave me unscathed. Nay, its ravening claws have scarred my soul for eternity. Never shall I know peace. Beings without will,” he said, speaking to the shadow-infused clones. “You cannot fathom my rage. My melancholy. My _fear_. What wroth is wealth and power when all must inevitably be consigned to nothingness? If man has nothing, he need not know the pain of loss,” the Emperor hissed as he stood from his throne. “So, let there _be_ nothing. Harvest more power, that the gate may be thrown full open. Let the Cloud of Darkness come and engulf the world, devouring all life, hopes, and dreams. Let all be returned to nothingness.” T’lorna shuddered. In her vision of that distant past, she could _taste_ Xande’s despair and rage.

She woke to hearing G’raha swear and the thrum of his bowstring reverberating in the throne room as he let fly an arrow. Her head pounded with the vision she had just witnessed. He reached down, squatting to gather her in his arms. “Pull yourself together, my dearest,” he whispered, his lips and breath hot against her temple. She shuddered as she sensed more clones appearing, their shadow-infused aether pounding against the Light that suffused her soul.

“Is there no end to them!?” G’raha growled as he stood up and loosened his bow once more. “What in the seven hells is happening?!” she winced as she felt the power of Allag wash over him. It was not quite like the Echo, but close enough that she knew he was seeing _something_. “Argh!” he roared. “Not now, damn it!”

T’lorna moved quickly, her staff whirling and her spells at the ready to shield the man she loved from being struck down by the false clones. She heard Nero’s gunbreaker sing out, the metallic echo cutting down other copies even as she hurled her own spells at them.

“Nero!” Cid swore. “Were they part of your grand plan, too?”

“Save your japes, Garlond! I didn’t put up with arrogant face to play with worthless clones! Something controls them. A voidsent, and no ordinary one at that.”

“Doga!” Unei screamed. T’lorna glanced over to see the male clone being swallowed by the ever-growing shadowy void. A tendril of shadow shot out from it to grab Unei.

“Confound it!” Nero roared. “Without them, there’s no way to master the darkness! That power… is _mine_!” Nero ran, cutting down the shadow-enfused clones, and leaping to try to grab hold of Unei even as the shadow portal swallowed her. T’lorna shuddered, feeling G’raha tighten his hold on her, as the portal sucked in both the clones and Nero.

“The covenant shall be honored,” came a voice from the shadow realm. “I am the Cloud of Darkness. I shall devour your light and return this world to the void.” The portal then slammed shut. T’lorna shuddered and G’raha collapsed, his legs going out from under him, his arms tightening around her as he tried to hold himself up.

“Damn it!” Cid shouted. “The rift is gone! What are we supposed to do now? As much as it pains me to leave without them,” the Garlean sighed after a long moment, “there’s precious little we can do. Let us return to camp and consult Rammbroes.”

T’lorna nodded. She could feel G’raha shuddering against her. The path to the void realm was not completely closed. Something in his Allagan heritage shivered through him, letting the two Miqo’te know that the threat still lingered. “We will return to the base camp,” she whispered, her voice carrying so that even the rest of Valhalla would not mistake her words, “and learn what we can. We will not leave Unei, Doga, and Nero to suffer. We _will_ find a way to rescue them. This I swear.”

“As do I,” G’raha whispered, his breathy words soft against the side of her neck. “As do I.”

T’lorna turned, wrapping her arms around G’raha and burying her face in his chest. She breathed in his warm, clean, welcome scent and let it comfort her. She relaxed when she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her in closer. He pressed his face against the top of her head and she could feel his lips moving against her temple, whispering words she could not quite make out.

“I will not lose you,” she muttered, her voice muffled against his chest. “I… I could not bear it.”

“I will stay with you,” he whispered for her ears only. “I promise.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna growled as she slammed another book shut. Across the room, she heard G’raha mutter something under his breath. Thus far, they’d spent days scouring the tower’s libraries looking for some clue as to how they could open a rift to the realm where Unei, Doga, and Nero were being held captive.

“There’s nothing in here we can use!” she snarled as she gestured to the growing piles of books scattered around the room. “Nothing! Oh, there’s plenty on the mechanics of the Crystal Tower itself. Or military history. Allagan technology and science. Even economics and trade theory. But nothing about the World of Darkness or Xande’s second reign!”

Footfalls behind her were her only warning that G’raha was moving towards her. She felt his arms wrap around her and his lips press against her cheek. She turned her head slightly, pressing her lips against his.

“Calm yourself, T’lorna,” G’raha whispered, his lips soft against her temple. “Yes, there is little of direct relevance to us here. Still, there is much to glean from these writings. Even the ones on economics,” he laughed softly.

“I just don’t see it,” she groused. “What have you managed to put together?”

“You won’t like it,” he sighed, tightening his hold around her.

“Tell me regardless.”

“The Crystal Tower still acts upon Emperor Xande’s orders and collects energy to open another voidgate even as we speak,” he sighed. “Indeed, this place nigh hums with energy. We have done all we can to stop the imperial edict but to no avail. Just as the gate would open only for Unei and Doga, so too will the tower heed only those with the royal blood of Allag. ‘Tis a most galling design,” he huffed. “Granted, this was not always so vexatious according to the Allagan tomestone Nero presented us. During the golden age of Allag, the royalty had some means of bestowing their blood upon others. If they hadn’t such a technology, Amon and his underlings could never have controlled the Crystal Tower. Still, though I bear a trace of the royal blood, it is not enough to stop Xande’s mad ambitions. It seems that the only way to end them will be to seal away the tower again for good. There is but one way out of this predicament: rescue those who can control the tower from beyond the dark realm and seal the rift shut after them.”

“So, another voidgate _will_ open,” she asked. “Can we control its size and reach at all?”

“No,” he admitted glumly. “Not without them to help us.”

“Where did you _find_ all that information?” she sighed after a long moment.

“…I do not know that I can explain it to you, T’lorna.”

“Try.”

“I know that I have some connection with the Tower even if I am only barely of the royal line,” he sighed. “It’s just enough that the tower whispers to me, somehow.” Idly, he rubbed his ruby eye. “Whispers aren’t quite right, either. It’s more as if… as if when I come close to something within the tower, knowledge flickers into my mind. Sometimes the knowledge stays but frequently it vanishes leaving behind only the impression that I know _something_ and cannot recall it. The experience is,” he winced, “most frustrating.”

“So, what do we do?” she asked, turning to face him and placing her hands on his arms. “Do we simply wait until a voidgate opens and rush into the World of Darkness?”

“No,” he said firmly. “That would be too dangerous and too unpredictable. I know that another gate will open but it could be next week or it could be next century. Instead, we should use the energies stored within the tower itself to open a portal that we can control. That would ensure that we have a safe avenue of retreat should we need it and that we are not left in another realm at the tender mercies of our captors.”

“I’m guessing that we’re going to need Cid to come up with another one of his technological marvels,” she laughed softly. G’raha nodded. “Well then, let’s get back to work. Something in these books has to be of _some_ use to him in that endeavor.”

~*~*~*~

Cid shook his head at the notes and diagrams that the two Miqo’te had provided him. He was not surprised at their audacity – the Warrior of Light and the archer had never come across as very low-key or traditional. Still, this went far beyond even what he had expected.

“It will work,” he muttered to himself as he made a few notations on the diagrams. “It will actually work.”

“You sound surprised,” G’raha laughed.

“I am,” the Garlean admitted. “I’ve spent years studying Allagan technology. I had worked out something much like this myself but you’ve found and resolved solutions with which I am still struggling. Tell me,” he said, fixing his gaze on the Miqo’te, “how did you come to have such expertise?”

“I may not have the connection to the tower that Unei and Doga have, but I do have _some_ connection to it,” G’raha explained. “Through that connection, I was able to make some educated guesses. So, how long will it take you to get the equipment set up and calibrated?”

“Another week at least,” Cid sighed. “I wish it could be done sooner but even with your improvements, we’re walking a fine line between being able to open a portal we can control and unleashing enough power to cause a Calamity ourselves. Best to be careful. To tread lightly.”

“A week, then,” G’raha said to himself. “I will be ready.”

Cid nodded absently, his mind already chewing on the project before him. Later, he would wonder why he hadn’t stopped to ask G’raha just what he would have been ready for.

~*~*~*~

The construction efforts went off with only a few minor hitches. G’raha could feel the will of the tower surging around these additions, wending through and around them, almost curious as to what they were and why they were being placed at all. He sensed no malevolence – only a thirst for knowledge that he himself shared.

While the Sons of Saint Coinach, the Ironworks, and the rest of NOAH were constructing the beacons, G’raha gave his days over to two efforts: exploring the rest of the Crystal Tower and honing his combat skills. He had not yet discussed his aspirations with T’lorna but he knew his efforts had at least gained him the respect of the leaders of Valhalla. Whether or not that would be enough for him to convince them – and the Warrior of Light – to grant him his wish was still unknown.

“G’raha?” he heard T’lorna call out softly, her voice echoing slightly through the halls. “Are you down this way?”

“In here,” he called out as he stepped out of the room he’d been exploring. They’d left the tower’s libraries to the rest of the scholars and engineers and had begun exploring the depths of the structure. Already they had uncovered technology that, if unleashed upon the world, would alter the very nature of society in a few short years. Working their way up through the tower, they had just stumbled upon the living quarters. Most of them were oversized, suited for the giants like the Emperor. However, this suite of rooms felt almost… welcoming.

T'lorna entered several minutes later to find him standing over a dresser and holding a tail comb. “Whoever lived here was a Miqo’te,” G’raha said as he showed her the comb. “I found a complete brush-set. The _ensuite_ also has several items that would only be of use to one of us.”

“I’d like to see that,” T’lorna chuckled. “It’s been a while since I was somewhere that had accommodations aimed at one of the tribes.”

“Then follow me,” G’raha grinned as he walked over, took her hand in his, and led her into the chambers. He ignored the sitting rooms and bedroom for now, taking her into the _ensuite._ It had the standard large bathing tub and shower but the inset shelves held shampoo and conditioner for tails and ears as well as for hair. Another full set of grooming tools lay on the double-sink and the bathrobes had cut-outs for tails.

“I see what you mean,” T’lorna laughed with delight. “I wonder who lived here.”

“I don’t know,” G’raha replied with a smile. “The tower has not seen fit to tell me that yet. However… I think that tonight you and I will stay in these quarters. There is something we need to discuss.”

“Oh?” she asked, turning serious.

“Relax. It is just a favor I wish to ask of you.”

“What is it, G’raha?”

“I… I wished to speak to you about my eye. As you know, ‘tis a trait seen only amongst Allagan royalty. Long have I pondered why such is my inheritance. The sanguine hue must have some bearing upon my destiny – this much Doga himself admitted. But what?” he sighed. He walked over to her as he spoke, placing his arms on her shoulders and caressing her with his thumbs. His gaze was abstracted; he looked at her without truly seeing her. “In truth, the more I learn of the Crystal Tower, the less I am myself. Somehow, meeting those two clones has wrought a great change within me. I am consumed with remembering… something. Something ancient, but ever so important. My father’s words echo in my mind, the selfsame ones his father told him; the truth of our eye rests with Allag. Mayhap what I wish to remember and these words are related. Mayhap not. But I know I must learn the truth that history hides from me. I would see this journey – _our_ journey – through to the very end with mine own two eyes. So, I implore you: allow me to join you beyond the rift!” At this, he met her gaze evenly, the passion in his eyes blazing through her to the point of where T’lorna almost nodded in acquiescence. She stopped herself at the last second.

“I must talk with the others about this,” she sighed as she looked away from his commanding gaze. “Give me an hour to do so.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “I will wait here.”

“Not in our tent?” she asked, confused.

“No. These rooms… they… they were meant for us, I think,” he grinned, blushing and looking abashed. “I once promised you that I would not take you in a tent for all to hear. Return to me with your answer but know that, regardless of what that answer is, I would spend tonight with you. I found more than mere brushes in this room,” he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something he held loosely in his fist. “I found these,” he explained as he uncurled his fingers. A pair of golden wedding bands lay on the palm of his hand. “I had wanted to do this more traditionally,” he said in a rush. “I would go and meet your father, face his trials, prove myself worthy of becoming your nuhn and husband, but time is against us. In a day, two at most, we will face the Cloud of Darkness. I could lose you or you could lose me,” he winced, the obvious horror that such a thought held shining clear in his mis-matched eyes. “I would have us swear to each other before that. If you will have me, T’lorna Zhiki, Warrior of Light, Defender of Eorzea, Daughter of Hydaelyn, I would be your husband. I would stand behind you, supporting you, cheering you on, holding you at night, for as long as we both shall live.”

T’lorna gasped in shock. She started to reach out, to take one of the rings and seal the offer. Instead, she stopped herself. “This will not sway the decision, G’raha,” she said softly.

“I did not expect that it would,” he replied with a small smile. “And it is ‘Raha.’ If you will have me, that is.”

“Of course I will have you,” she huffed. “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. I will return shortly with my answer to your request and then… then we can spend the rest of the night together or not, as you wish.”

“I will always wish to spend the night with you, my love, my Lorna,” G’raha said softly. “Even if your answer to my request vexes me beyond reason. I would have you and hold you for this night and for every night to come thereafter.”

With that, Raha kissed her with a passion that nearly made her legs to out from under her. Then, he pulled back, grinned, and released her to go and search out her answer to his request.

~*~*~*~

Just over an hour later, T’lorna gently pushed open the door to the chambers G’raha had declared would belong to them. In one hand, she carried a tray with two bowls of stew upon it. Yeasty rolls sat near each bowl and a pitcher of wine stood in the center. The meal was a gift from Valhalla – an offering to give their two warriors strength in the battle to come.

“You’re back,” she heard G’raha whisper. “I’ve prepared everything for the evening. What is that?” he asked, seeing and smelling the food she carried.

“Supper,” she explained. “A meal to give us both strength for the battle to come. Jinpu and the rest say that you may join us on the battlefield so long as you are prepared to obey orders. That includes an order to leave me,” she explained, her sapphire gaze locking onto his mis-matched eyes with intensity. “If you cannot vow to follow their orders, then you will not be joining us.”

“I will obey their orders,” G’raha sighed. “But their orders had best make sense.”

“They will,” she promised as she walked over and set the tray on the large table in the sitting room. “Jinpu never issues orders that have no reason behind them. At least not in battle,” she amended. “He likes to play pranks when our lives aren’t on the line.”

“Very well, then. It seems that I will be accompanying you into the World of Darkness.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You will. You will be assigned to Geralin’s squad and thus will be under my command. Geralin may lead the squad but, when Syris is not part of it, I am his second. That means you must obey my orders as well. Can you do that, G’raha Tia?”

“Yes.”

T’lorna relaxed slightly. She had what she needed in order to ensure that G’raha would be allowed to join them in the field. She turned to set the tray on the table. No sooner had she done that than she felt his arms wrapping around her.

“And what of my offer?” he asked softly, his breath ghosting against her face. She felt him reach into his pocket again to produce the rings. “Will you bind yourself to me for now and for all times to come?”

“I will,” she whispered, holding out her left hand. He took it in his own and slid the smaller of the two rings onto it. Then, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it passionately. “I take you as my husband from this day forward until my last day upon this land. I would bind myself to you, body and soul. My children will be your children. My soul will seek out your soul from this age until the final age of existence.”

G’raha shivered in her arms as the words of binding settled over them both. He held out his left hand and smiled as she plucked the ring from his right hand and slid it on to the ring finger of his left. “I take you as my wife from this day until my last day,” he swore. “I bind myself to you, body and soul. My children shall be your children. My soul will ever seek yours from this age until the final age.”

“Raha,” she whispered, her breath ghosting lightly against his lips. “I… I love you, my husband. My mate.”

“Lorna,” he sighed, pressing his lips gently against hers. “My wife. My mate. Mother to my children.” She gasped lightly as she felt him bend, hooking his arm under her knees, and then turning towards the bed. Her heart was racing and she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. Her tail wrapped itself around his waist. She could feel a throbbing between her legs, a pulsing that ached with each beat of her heart.

“Stop,” she whispered, her lips soft against the pulse-point in his neck. “Set me down?” she requested tenderly.

“You do not wish to…”

“Oh, I wish to,” she laughed. “But I would know you first. Know you as a woman knows her nuhn.”

G’raha sighed as he set her down just in front of the low-set bed. She turned, spinning him so that his back was to the bed, and then pressed gently until he sat on the soft mattress. She bent down, taking his legs in her hands and gently working off his thigh-high boots. She then scratched gently up his inner thighs, her fingers moving up over his hips and chest to hook around his shoulders as she leaned in and kissed him. His tongue swept into her mouth, his own fingers carding up the sides of her head to undo the tail at the crown of her head and then to run through her hair, pausing to fondle her ears. She shuddered softly against him as her own hands stroked the sides of his neck, tracing over his Archon tattoos before moving to the back of his head to undo his braid and let his hair hang loose.

“I love you,” G’raha whispered against her lips.

She grinned and let her fingers drift to the back of his neck, unhooking his gorget and then tossing it to the side. She moved her hands over his shoulders and unzipped his vest before pushing it off him. He worked his arms free of it and threw it into the center of the room before wrapping his own arms around her, one of his hands settling at the base of her skull while the other pressed against the small of her back, pressing her into him.

“Touch me,” he hissed as her hands swept over his chest. “Please,” he begged as he leaned back slightly, arching his hips towards her. T’lorna let her hands glide over his chest, stroking him gently as she kissed him tenderly. She teased him, touching him lightly, stroking his neck, his back, his arms, and his chest, until he began to growl, pressing her more tightly against him.

“Touch me,” he growled, his voice just short of command. She let her fingers trail lightly down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, unbuttoning them slowly and then tugging them down. G’raha lifted his hips, helping her to work his trousers and smallclothes off. “Please,” he whined against her lips, bucking against her, his hardness warm and heavy against his stomach. He pulled his hand from the small of her back, trailing it over her waist until he had her hand in his and guided it to where he wanted her to touch him most. “Gods!” he swore as her fingers wrapped around him, their touch featherlight but firm. He wrapped his hand around hers as he bucked against her grasp. “Please, my love. _Please._ ”

She tightened her hold around him, pumping up and down slowly but firmly. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, his hands trying to touch her everywhere he could. When she pulled back, her lips trailing down his neck, his chest, and his belly, he hissed. She knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed and fixed him with a sapphire look at she wrapped her lips around his tip.

“Gods!” he shouted, his hands moving to stroke her ears. “Yes!”

She took him in to the hilt, her tongue licking the underside of his shaft as one of her hands moved to cup and fondle his sack. G’raha threw his head back and groaned in pleasure at the warmth of her mouth pulling, stroking, and sucking him until he could feel sparks building at the base of his spine. Then, he gripped her shoulders and hauled her away. He stroked the sides of her face, her neck, and kissed her deeply, enjoying the tang of himself in her mouth.

“I want,” he panted, “to be inside you, my love. My _wife_.”

With that, he let his hands drift to the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head as he kissed her deeply, his hands stroking over her back, her sides, and then sliding up to stroke the undersides of her breasts over her smallclothes. She pressed herself against him, purring softly, and he reached behind her to unhook her bra and then fling it out behind her.

“Raha,” she panted breathily as his hands slid back around to caress her breasts and his mouth moved down the side of her throat, pausing to bite down where her neck and shoulder met, before moving on to her chest. She gasped when she felt G’raha’s mouth close over one of her nipples as his hands shifted, lifting her off the ground and pulling her on top of him. He shifted them atop the bed until they lay on it lengthwise with her laying beside him. She kicked off her shoes as his hands drifted down her sides to her waist, sliding around to her belly to undo the button. She hissed softly as he worked his hand down her belly, his fingers questing as his other hand worked to tug her pants and smallclothes down. She shifted to help him remove them, kicking them off as his fingers slid between her legs, probing at her most private of places.

“Oh,” she gasped as his fingers moved through the warm wetness between her legs. “Oh, Raha,” she purred.

“Lorna,” he gasped, pressing his lips against hers with desperation. “My Lorna!”

He shifted, sliding down her body, his lips making a trail down her throat, between her breasts, over her belly until he was between her legs. He’d pushed her thighs so that they lay over his shoulders. She glanced down in confusion but then gasped, bucking against his face as he began to lap at the apex of her thighs. The gentle feel of his tongue against the fevered bud between her legs, the girth of his fingers as they probed inside of her, and the soft gusts of his breath soon had her pulled taut as a bowstring on the verge of being loosed. He worked her, drinking in her moans, stoking her, until, at last, she gasped and shuddered around him.

“Raha,” she panted, her chest heaving. “Please. I need… I want…”

She shuddered when she felt him shift, moving up her body, pressing himself against her. He slid his girth through her sopping folds, coating himself with her readiness. Her breath hitched when she felt his tip probing at her and then began to feel him sink into her, inch by silk-covered-steel inch.

“Are you… is this all right?” she heard him gasp as he pressed into her.

“It’s…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked breathlessly.

“No. Just give me a moment,” she whispered. Raha pressed his lips to hers, not moving his hips, his arms wrapping behind her back, holding her against him. She felt herself beginning to relax and found that the feel of him inside her, while still slightly uncomfortable, was not at all unwelcome. Groaning, she shifted her hips slightly as she sought relief and felt him moan into her mouth as he sank in even deeper.

“My love,” he gasped. “You’re so warm. So wet. So _tight_. You feel _so_ good around me.”

“Raha,” she hissed. “Please. Move. I need…”

“Oh, I know what you need,” he chuckled as he slowly pulled back. She hissed at the sense of loss and then groaned as he pressed back into her. “I need this as much as you do. I need nothing but you, Lorna. I never want to spend a day without feeling you around me, welcoming me home. Gods, I love you!”

T’lorna gasped in relief as he began to move, his hips rocking against hers. She shifted to meet him, purring softly at the way he felt as he moved in and out of her. “I love you,” she sobbed. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as deeply into her as he could go. She arched her back with each thrust, meeting him. The sound of flesh against flesh, the feel of skin against skin, and the way his lips caressed her shoulder, her neck, and his fingers pressed against just above where they were joined nearly drove her mad.

“I want to feel you come undone around me,” he growled as he continued to slam into her. “Lorna, please, come. Come for me, my dearest. Let yourself go.”

She pressed her head back into the pillow, thrusting her hips against his, feeling herself growing more and more tightly wound until, at his command, she released. She could feel herself gripping his length tightly, spasming around him as he continued to thrust in and out of her, chasing his own high. Her vision whited out and she lost all sense of awareness of anything that was not him moving within her body. She felt him shudder within her, felt his arms tighten around her, and felt him growl and then collapse against her.

Moments passed as she regained a sense of herself. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking up and down his back as he panted and gasped against her neck.

“That was…” she whispered, not quite certain how to finish the sentence.

“Indeed,” he agreed breathlessly, lifting himself up on his forearms to kiss her. “It was.” He growled softly as he softened and slipped from her body. “If it’s always like that, I think we may never get any sleep. Unless… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m a little sore,” she admitted, feeling somewhat forlorn at the loss. “But otherwise fine.”

“Then let’s go eat that dinner you brought and get some rest for the next round, my love,” he suggested coyly.

“That sounds a fine idea to me, _husband_ ,” she grinned.

“‘Husband,’” he sighed as he sat up and stroked her face. “I _do_ like the sound of that.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha woke the next morning and smiled. Lorna, his wife, still slept soundly in his arms. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for that – he’d kept her fairly active throughout the night. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. There was something about her scent flowing from just near the pulse-point that made him… hungry. Pressing his lips against the side of her neck, he shifted, his tail wrapping itself over his hip to stroke her side.

“Raha?” she sighed sleepily. She shifted and could feel his eagerness pressing against her backside. “I’m still so tired.”

“I know,” he replied gently. “Go back to sleep, my love.”

“Mhmm,” she sighed and he grinned as he felt her drift back to sleep. He lay so he could watch her sleep, his fingers drifting lightly over her face and through her hair, careful not to wake her. Though he wanted her, he reminded himself that they would have the rest of their lives to spend waking up in each other’s arms. Instead, he focused on slowly turning her so that she lay against his chest and he could gaze into her sleeping face.

“You are,” he whispered to her, his lips soft against her forehead, “without a doubt the loveliest woman I have ever known. And the most intelligent. Once upon a time, my father tried to arrange a marriage for me to a woman of your tribe. He told me she was shaman born,” he added, gently touching her eyelids. “When I saw you first and then came to know you, I prayed that you were she. But you lack the markings of a shaman. Still, I do not regret my choice. I love you, Lorna. I will keep you safe as best I can when we go to face the dangers of the World of Darkness. And, when we return, we will make public our marriage. I will go to your tribe and meet whatever challenge your father has set for me to prove myself worthy of you. I will be content to live in your shadow for you are the Warrior of Light. I will follow you without question, chronicling your deeds so that all of history might know them.”

“That’s nice,” Lorna mumbled in her sleep as she nestled into his chest. “Love you, Raha.”

“I love you, Lorna. Get your rest while you can,” he sighed, kissing her forehead again. “Once we’re back from the World of Darkness, I can’t imagine letting you sleep in too frequently.”

With that, G’raha closed his eyes, breathed in his wife’s scent, and let himself drift back to sleep.

~*~*~*~

The next time G’raha awoke, T’lorna was out of the bed and he could hear water running in the _ensuite._ He rose from the blankets and padded into the adjoining room, grinning when he saw her settling into the large tub.

“The room smells like sex,” she sniffed. “And so do we.”

“And this bothers you?” he asked, his ears wilting.

“Not entirely,” she shrugged. “But, if we’re to face the World of Darkness today, no need to make it easier for them to figure out where our weak spots are.”

“Ah. Fair point,” G’raha conceded as he climbed into the tub with her. Together, they washed themselves off and then dried and dressed in clean clothes. “Do you want to air the room out?”

“No,” T’lorna said quickly. “I like the smell of our scents mingled like this. I just don’t want our enemies to know. How are we going to tell the others, though? Do you want to?”

“Of course I want to tell everyone,” G’raha said as he stamped his feet into his boots. “I’d write it in the sky if I could. Do _you_ want to tell the others?”

“Yes. But it may be better to wait until matters with the tower are more settled. I want to tell my father first,” she explained. “Then the rest of my family and the Scions.”

“I imagine that your father will have some choice words for me,” G’raha sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “After all, I’m hardly a nuhn. Just a scholar with Allagan blood.”

“My father never intended me to be part of a nuhn’s harem,” T’lorna said as she pulled on her gloves and picked up her staff. “I think that he’ll approve of you because I like you.”

“Well, let’s hope that proves to be correct. Otherwise, we may both find ourselves in an awful lot of trouble. Still, it will be worth it,” he added when he saw the fearful expression on her face. “I would not trade what has happened between us for anything in the world, my love.”

“Nor would I,” she smiled, her smile heating his blood and setting his pulse to racing. He walked over to her and swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bed they’d shared. Joining the others would just have to wait.

She squeaked slightly as he tossed her on the mattress and began tugging off her boots and trousers. He bent over her, his feet still on the floor, and kissed her as he unbuttoned her robes and opened them so he could tug down her bra, baring her breasts to his gaze.

“Raha,” she breathed, shifting to wrap her legs around his waist. “We should…”

“Ssh,” he hissed as he trailed his lips down her neck and chest, latching onto one of her nipples and laving it with his tongue. He worked his hands under her, stroking the skin of her back as she arched and bucked against him. One hand slid back around her side, down her stomach, and to his own trousers so he could undo them and shove them down, freeing himself. He growled, wanting to feel her skin against his, and pulled his other hand free to unzip his vest and open it as he pressed his chest against hers and kissed her fiercely while positioning himself at her entrance. In a fluid motion, he entered her, gasping against her mouth as he found her wet and ready for him.

“Lorna,” he gasped as he lay against her, his chest against hers. “You feel so… so… so _good_. I love you!”

“Please,” she hissed. “Please move, Raha, my love!”

He reached between them, his fingers moving against the sensitive bud where they were joined, working it until he felt her walls fluttering against him. When he felt her begin to tighten around him in a vice-like grasp, he shifted, pounding in and out of her until he felt a tingling in his spine that presaged his own release.

“Lorna, my wife!” he cried as he thrust against her, his skin slapping against her. “Please!”

She shifted slightly, locking her legs around his waist, and he growled as his release exploded out of him. He continued to move erratically, groaning as Lorna’s muscles milked him for every last drop. He collapsed atop her, nuzzling her neck as he struggled to catch his breath.

“I suppose that my plan to make it less-than-obvious that we’re together is out the window,” T’lorna sighed as she stroked her husband’s face and fondled his ears.

“You are too desirable for your own good,” he panted, kissing her neck. “Can you blame me?”

“Not entirely,” she chuckled. “I wanted you just as badly.”

“One day,” he panted, “we will make love all night, wake up only to make love until we’re exhausted, sleep, and then do it all again.”

“And what about when you get me with child?” she asked.

“Our children,” he wheezed, “will be the only reason I don’t keep their mother naked and tied up. Oh, Lorna, can you imagine them? They’ll be scholars with the blood of old Allag. We’ll teach them everything we have learned, take them on adventures with us, show them all that Eorzea has to offer them. We’ll build our own tribe of Miqo’te scholars who will forever alter the destiny of the world. Then, one day, surrounded by our grand-kits and great-grand-kits, we’ll retire from active scholarship to spend our final days wrapped up in each other. If the Crystal Mother is kind, we’ll fall asleep together one night and wake up in our new lives knowing that we must find each other again. Perhaps the next time around, we won’t be in our twenties when that happens. Gods… if we had found each other when we were kits, how much easier might our lives have been? No loneliness. No sense of isolation. Just a partnership that would have blossomed into the passion we currently feel. Oh, my wife, my Lorna,” he groaned as he pushed himself up off her. “How wonderful it would be. But, we have work to be about, do we not?” She nodded and he sighed. “Then let us be about it. The world of Darkness awaits. And I care little if they know what we are to each other. Let it be written in the sky, in the stars, and in the histories that G’raha Tia was beloved of the Warrior of Light T’lorna Zhiki and that he was granted the great honor of being her husband, of laying with her, of fathering her children.”

“As you would have it, my love,” she whispered fondly. “Let us go and face the World of Darkness and let them see the truth of our love.”

~*~*~*~

“There you two are,” Cid muttered as T’lorna and G’raha walked into the throne room. “I was starting to wonder if we’d have to send a search party after you. Is there something you wish to tell me?” he added, glancing meaningfully at their joined hands.

“Well,” G’raha laughed, blushing and scrubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I suppose you have a right to know, Master Garlond. T’lorna and I have just chosen each other this past night. She is my wife in every way that matters. And I will be accompanying her into the World of Darkness, protecting her as best I can.”

“Your _wife_ ,” Cid groaned. “I should have been prepared for this. I’ve known from almost the first that the two of you… well… I suppose congratulations are in order? T’lorna, are you certain about this?”

“I love him,” she said simply. “I have never felt this way about anyone in my life.”

“Very well then,” Cid sighed. “G’raha, I charge you with keeping T’lorna safe in the World of Darkness. I charge you with ensuring that she returns to us whole. And I charge you with ensuring that her heart is not shattered by sacrifice. The Twelve know that much has been demanded of her,” he added. “See that you do not add to her burden.”

“As far as I am able,” G’raha grinned as he glanced at his wife, “I will keep her safe and bring her back. I will never leave her so long as I can remain with her and keep her safe. I know that her destiny will call upon her to fight, to struggle, and to overcome odds which I can, at this moment, scarcely imagine. But I will weave my fate into her shadow and give her a reason to survive and to return to me if Hydaelyen sees fit to grant such a desire.”

Cid sighed and shook his head. “I should have known that you two were destined for each other,” the Garlean muttered. “So long as you can support her destiny, G’raha, I have no reason to oppose this union. I will even travel with you two when you go to present yourself to her father. I will speak for you. However, for now, try to keep your mind out of the bedroom and on the task at hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, let me know what you think. :)


	9. Into the World of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we enter the World of Darkness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna disciplined her mind to focus on the task at hand. She just managed to ignore G’raha clutching at her hand as they, along with the rest of Valhalla, waited for the portal to the World of Darkness to open.

The beacons began to shine and T’lorna could feel the swell of aether filling the air. She gasped slightly as she felt more than saw the rip in reality form and a dark, shadowy portal appear in front of the throne.

“This is it,” G’raha Tia whispered beside her. “This is the opening we have been waiting for. Come, we must brave the rift to save Unei and Doga and to stop the shadowy pact my ancestor wrought from destroying this world!”

“So we shall,” Jinpu agreed. “Valhalla, with me!”

“Don’t fall behind,” T’lorna said tersely as she moved along with the other healers. “Stay with the black mages but don’t fall behind.”

“I won’t,” G’raha promised as the fighters made their way up to the platform where the first guardian awaited them. He unslung his bow and set an arrow on the string. He would not fail his wife. Not here. Not now. Not when it was his lineage at fault for the danger facing the world. He would do his part and prove to her and to himself that he was worthy to stand with her on the field of battle, protecting the land from any threat that saw fit to challenge them.

As he walked behind her, he smiled to himself at the way that her gaze took in the horizon, seeing things beyond it which he could only imagine. Perhaps, once the threat was ended, he would be able to convince her to share her thoughts with him – the thoughts she had now as battle drew closer. Shaking his head to clear it, he sighted in on the first guardian beast and prepared himself for the battle to come.

~*~*~*~

As they approached the final platform of the crazed and twisted landscape in the World of Darkness, G’raha Tia wondered at how T’lorna was able to stay on her feet. The rest of Valhalla looked only more determined. None of them appeared to be winded at all. He himself felt as if he could crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Still, he forced himself to look around and take in the scene around him. The sky was filled with black and purple clouds that looked and acted more like smoke than true clouds. Red rents of light shot through the clouds as if they were floating over pools of magma. It was a sight to make G’raha’s skin crawl.

When a cloudbank in front of him started to coalesce into a face, it took all his self-control to keep from yelping in fright.

“Who disturbs the gloom?” The cloud gathered in further upon itself and hideous eyes appeared. “Ahhh, mortals from the realm of light. You have not stumbled here without purpose…” A woman’s body, wrought in gold, looking like the worst nightmare of Allagan technology crossed with pure terror, appeared out of the cloud. She floated in the air over the platform, her size dwarfing the fighters. She was constructed on a scale that made even Xande seem small. “The covenant is everlasting,” she hissed. “All mortals before the flood of darkness will sink lifeless into the void!”

G’raha stayed back with the black mages as he had been ordered. Over the many fights he’d been through already with Valhalla while they made their way through the twisted nightmarescape of the World of Darkness, he’d seen how smoothly they worked together. Though he had endeavored to keep one eye on T’lorna, he’d found himself forced to spend more time and energy staying with his assigned squad-mates. Even now, he held himself back, firing shot after shot at the monstrous creature while he watched his wife weave in and out of the middle group, casting her healing energies around.

Confronting the Cloud of Darkness were Syris and Geralin with the other melee fighters spread out around them, striking with swiftness and strength. Standing further back with him, G’raha listened to the slow count as each of the magi or archers prepared their spell or missile.

With the battle joined, G’raha’s earlier fatigue fell away. He felt almost invigorated. He no longer noticed the burn of tired muscles nor the way that sweat slicked his hair to his head. He only knew the steady rhythm of combat. Strike at the foe. Move out of the way of her attack. Strike again. Cut down the clouds and storms she drew to herself to gain energy. Avoid the orbs she summoned to rain down upon her attackers.

A few times, he felt the warm tingle of T’lorna’s healing energy wash over him as she swept a spell over the entire squad. He found himself liking the way it felt and noticing how different her energy – her aether – felt to him from that of other healers.

Finally, the Cloud of Darkness collapsed and dissipated. G’raha watched in awe as the clouds in the World of Darkness lost their violent, creepy aspect and turned into more normal clouds in a starry night sky. He heard the rest of Valhalla begin to look around the platform and he walked up to T’lorna.

“Where in the seven hells are they!? Without them to stem the energy in the tower, our defeat of the Cloud aids our cause little,” he muttered. “Doga! Unei! Can you hear me? Nero!” he shouted into the dark sky. T’lorna stood by him, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it to let him know she was there.

“ _Must_ you be so infernally loud!? Are you so keen to attract more voidsent?” Nero’s voice called out from across the platform. T’lorna and G’raha turned to see the Garlean. What they saw made them gasp in shock. Nero’s armor, skin, and face were covered with arcane energies that bled from the void itself. Unless he could be brought back to their world – and quickly – the Garlean who so annoyed Cid would soon be nothing more than another voidsent himself. What was more surprising was that Nero carried the unconscious Unei in his arms. “…Though I don’t blame you for missing my company,” he quipped as he and Doga approached.

“Thank the Twelve!” G’raha sighed in relief. “Are you all right?”

“As all right as can be expected. Unei has simply passed out.”

“Nero, by the gods, what happened to you?” G’raha asked, gesturing at the purple haze coating the man from head to toe.

“Alas,” Doga sighed, “his wounds were too deep, and allowed this foul place entry to his body. Now, the darkness claws at the aether of his very form. Would that we could have protected him. The Cloud of Darkness was bound by Xande’s unholy covenant to bring prosperity to Allagan royalty. The same blood that sealed this contract gives us a measure of protection. I say a measure for this vow does not protect us from other voidsent. The Cloud imprisoned us here precisely to unleash fiends upon us. We would be dead had Nero not defended us so valiantly.”

“Mistake not my actions for kindness,” Nero grimaced. “I have use for you yet in Eorzea and simply couldn’t let harm befall you here.”

“Wh-Where…?” Unei asked weakly as she began to come around.

“Unei! You are safe – our friends have come for us,” Doga explained as the woman sat up.

“H-have they? Then perhaps, Doga, there is yet hope we may fulfill our purpose.”

Before the clone could elaborate, the hellscape sky from earlier drew down around them and the Cloud of Darkness began screaming.

“Mortals! You have dared to challenge me, and now must feel my wrath! Did you think to destroy me in _my_ realm? Here, I am eternal! I will smother your light and entomb your bones amongst my shadows!”

A beam of void energy washed across the platform, just missing the group of mortals.

“A-are we truly so powerless here?” G’raha asked.

“As long as we fight the Cloud in this realm, I fear so,” Doga replied. “And yet… though we may not be able to destroy it, this may be our chance to stop it. If we strike now whilst the Cloud can barely hold her form, mayhap we can sever Xande’s covenant!”

“Yes, and raze the bridge between the Crystal Tower and this foul place once and for all! T’lorna, G’raha – you must flee!” Unei said quickly.

“You… you and Doga mean to _stay_ here!? ‘Tis madness! You must return with us! No one but you can save the world from the threat of the Crystal Tower!” G’raha pleaded. T’lorna shook her head. Though her heart agreed with him, her head knew that sacrificing the clones may be the only way to end the threat from the World of Darkness. She reached out to him, trying to figure out how to explain such things and to remind him that the decision to stay or go truly was up to Unei and Doga when an orb of void energy formed just a short distance away. Before she could conjure a shield, it sent out a bolt of energy aimed directly at G’raha Tia. He threw his arms up to shield himself and the energy split as if he were shielded. T’lorna gasped. For the split-second the bolt had existed, she had feared that she would soon be a widow.

“What is this trickery? Your blood! You too gain protection from Xande’s blood!” the Cloud of Darkness shrieked.

“G’raha Tia… You _are_ possessed of royal blood!” Unei explained. “That is why the Royal Eye runs in your line! ‘this a gift you have inherited, G’raha – _you_ have been granted authority over the Crystal Tower!”

“I had thought time would consume all of Allag that was,” Doga sighed. “That a man should still live with his forebears’ blood in this age can be no coincidence. Some person must have planted this gift in your line, and used the highest of Allagan technology to do so. True, the Crystal Tower is not like to recognize you as Allagan, not as you are now. But your Royal Eye bespeaks a simple truth: within you dwells one feeble glitter that will illuminate all, the light of hope!”

“But… how should I use this light?” G’raha asked. “Pray, tell me!”

Doga and Unei held up their right hands, cupping them, and willing small red orbs to appear. “You must gain control of the Crystal Tower. We will share our blood with you, G’raha. Though its effects will be but ephemeral, it will bloster the Allagan presence within you,” Unei explained.

“This is our gift to you, that you may fulfill your destiny,” Doga added. “All with the Royal Eye are bound by fate to Allag. Our part in this journey is to bury Xande’s dark ambitions in the past. This as the true Unei and Doga’s purpose, one we have carried into the future. Know that as long as this light of hope survives in you, our souls will still remain – even if our bodies are lost.”

The two small orbs floating over their hands moved to merge together into one bright, blood-red orb. It floated towards G’raha who stared at it for a long moment before reaching out with his own right hand and taking it.

A heartbeat passed. Two. When he looked up, T’lorna could see that both of his eyes were bright ruby red.

“You must leave us as well, Nero. I am sorry we could not live up to your expectations,” Doga apologized as G’raha regained some of his bearings.

“I must return to you what is yours, though,” Unei muttered. “You dropped it whilst defending us.” She handed him back his aether-measuring tool. “What you seek by this instrument may not be possible, Nero. But do not give up. There are many other paths that await you.”

“Of _course_ they do,” he said grandly.

“Doga, Unei,” G’raha Tia said softly. “Thank you. We shall never forget you. Now, T’lorna, Nero, let us and the rest of Valhalla quit this place.”

T’lorna whistled loudly and the rest of Valhalla lined up and prepared to run.

“You shall not escape me, impudent children of light!” shrieked the Cloud of Darkness as the mortals began to race back towards the portal to their world. G’raha Tia and T’lorna took up the rear positions, trailed by Nero. G’raha figured that, from the back, he could shield the others from the Cloud’s attacks with his Royal Blood.

“No,” Unei shouted out into the darkness. “ _You_ shall not escape _us_. Here, Xande’s bloodstained dreams of glory end!”

Valhalla moved quickly, soon regaining the narrow crystalline bridge that span the void between the shadow and the realm of light.

“There, that glint of light!” G’raha gasped in joy, his arm going around T’lorna’s waist as he tried to push her out in front of him. “It… it grows faint! Then the bridge between realms grows fragile by the covenant’s annulment! If that light dies, we are stranded here! Hurry!” he shouted over his shoulder to Nero who seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other. “Nero, no! You must move!” G’raha shouted as he stopped and turned to see the Garlean collapsing to his knees.

“Leave me!” Nero shouted back. “I don’t need you! If I die here, it’ll be because I bloody well decided to! I failed to master darkness. I’ll not suffer watching a green boy master the tower. Do what you will with it. But remember me, _son of Allag_! I am Nero tol Scaeva, the man who’ll yet outdo Allag _and_ Garlond!”

“ _That_ was what you hoped to…” G’raha replied. A sudden pain washed over him and he could hear a voice from the far distant past ringing in his mind. “May the Crystal Tower again be a beacon of hope for mankind,” it said.

“Go, damn you!” Nero screamed. T’lorna tugged at G’raha and nodded. With a sad smile, her husband nodded to her and the two ran, throwing themselves into the portal of light.

G’raha grunted as he struck the cool, blue crystal floor of the throne room. He had picked T’lorna up as he’d leapt through the portal and could feel her comforting warmth and weight against his chest. He tightened his hold on her, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Where’s Nero?” Cid asked.

“He’s still making his way to the portal,” T’lorna answered. G’raha could both hear and feel her words. “He was injured,” she explained. “We waited as long as we could…”

“No, that fool is _not_ going to die on me now,” Cid growled. “Biggs, hold on to me while I do something completely reckless.”

G’raha opened his eyes and lifted his head to see Cid nan Garlond put half his body through the rapidly-closing portal. It was eerie to see a single hand and only the lower half of the Garlean while the rest was invisible. For a long moment, the portal wavered, threatening to shut and cut the engineer in half. But then, just as it flickered for the last time, Cid pulled back, yanking Nero into the throne room with him.

“The clones did it,” Nero said several moments later when he’d caught his breath. “They broke the covenant. That’s what healed me. The bloody fools actually did it.”

“So, the Crystal Tower is safe once again?” Cid asked.

“Ask its new master,” Nero replied, gesturing towards G’raha who still lay on the floor of the throne room with T’lorna in his arms. “Ask the last son of Allag.”

“It is safe enough _for now_ ,” G’raha replied with a groan as he forced himself to sit up. “If it will remain so depends a great deal on what we find within it. As it stands, I would not suggest opening it to more than a handful of researchers. Everyone should remain camped out at the Eight Sentinels for now. Through the gift of their blood which they granted me, Unei and Doga have given me the power to control the Crystal Tower. Should it prove to be wise to seal it, I am able to do so.”

“Your eyes,” Cid gasped.

“Yes,” G’raha nodded. “I bear the Royal Eyes of Allag. Somehow, I am descended from the Allagan Royal line. My blood is the key to opening and to controlling the Crystal Tower. Please, do not press me for answers yet,” he added, holding up a hand to ward off the questions he could see forming in Cid’s eyes. “Give me some time to acclimate myself and I will tell you what I may.”

“Very well, then,” Cid sighed. “I will get everyone out of the Tower for now and leave you to your studies.”

“Thank you, Cid,” G’raha said softly, almost sadly. “Thank you for that.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha stood in front of the large window that gazed out on Lake Silvertear. He wore just a towel tied around his waist and was waiting, somewhat impatiently, for T’lorna to finish her own bath so he could tend her wounds. She’d already tended to his – smoothing salve over the few bruises he had and using a healing spell on the handful of cuts and scrapes. For her part, however, she had several large bruises and a burn that had him worried. Still, he’d fussed over her enough that she’d begun snarling softly so he decided to take the better part of valor and let her bathe in peace.

He sighed as he continued to look out over the lake that stretched out behind the Crystal Tower. It sparkled in the late evening light, shining red, pink, and orange. Idly, he wondered if the view had been the same during the Third Era or if the Tower had stood out over a vast city long since lost to the great calamities that marked Eorzean history.

“You look rather thoughtful,” he heard T’lorna say. He turned away from the window to see her standing in the doorway of the _ensuite_ wearing his shirt.

“You look rather beautiful,” he said softly as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Your bruises are gone.”

“I decided I would rather be tired tonight than sore _and_ tired tomorrow,” she explained. G’raha grinned and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled, breathing in her clean scent. He could feel his eyes glazing over when her scent hit him. Something about the place where her neck and shoulder met had intensified and the sweet, clean scent wafting from it made him hungry. He pressed his face against the spot, inhaling deeply, and then began to press his lips against it. He growled when he felt her fingers dig into his waist as he licked and tasted that spot. Her flavor exploded on his tongue and suddenly all he could think of was his need to mark her, to claim her, to mate with her.

“Raha,” she breathed, her fingers digging into his waist. She yelped when he tore his mouth away from her shoulder and lifted her up to press her against the nearby wall. G’raha was breathing hard, panting as if he had just run a race, and the only thought that existed in his mind was the thought of taking her as soon as possible. He held her in place against the wall with his body as he let his hands drift down to her waist. He growled, his face pressed against her chest, as he found her smallclothes. To work them off, he’d have to stop touching her – something he could not abide the thought of at the moment. So, he gripped the sides and pulled, summoning all the strength in his bowyer’s arms, and groaned in relief when he felt them rip. He quickly unwound the towel at his waist, dipped a finger in her and moaned at finding her ready. Then, he shifted, positioned himself at her entrance, and surged inside with a single, fluid motion.

“Ah,” he moaned, moving his mouth from her chest back to that tantalizing spot on her shoulder. He relaxed further when she shifted, wrapping her legs around his hips, and began to move against him. He moved with her, thrusting and pumping until he felt a tingle at the base of his spine. She was moving with him, their motions driving each other closer and closer to the brink. The scent from her neck was driving him wild, making him move faster and faster, his hips snapping against hers with soft, wet slaps.

“Lorna!” he growled as he bit down on that delicious spot. He tasted her blood on his tongue and growled, thrusting once, twice, thrice, and then his vision whited out completely.

G’raha regained a sense of himself moments later. He still held his wife in his arms, her body pressed between his and the wall. His legs were shaking with the effort of holding them up and only the soft, gentle caress of her fingers in his hair and against his ears kept him from collapsing in a heap. He started to lift his head but she held him firm and the scent from her… He felt himself hardening again and had just enough presence of mind to pull her flush against him and carry her quickly to the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said in a voice that sounded foreign to his own ears. “Not nearly finished.”

~*~*~*~

G’raha woke some time later. He smiled when he felt T’lorna pressed against his chest and then frowned when he smelled blood. He shifted, wincing at the pain and wondering just what he had done that had left him so sore and tired. Vaguely, he remembered a fierce, hungry desire that had swept through him but he could recall few details other than a blissful night… and day… and a second night and day… of near constant lovemaking.

“Gods,” he sighed, “what came over me?”

“Hm-hmm umm,” T’lorna muttered in her sleep, shifting slightly against him. He lifted his hands, surprised to find that his arms were shaking, and tried to turn her so he could look her over. The scent of blood had him worried. With effort, he was finally able to get her to flop over on her back and the sight of her neck nearly made him yelp. A dark bruise and teeth marks marred the skin of her neck and shoulder and he could see fresh scab-marks over them. He licked his lips and shuddered at the taste of blood on his tongue.

“Did I… Did I do _that_?” he asked himself, aghast. He lifted his hand to wipe his face and winced in pain. Forcing himself up and maneuvering out of the bed, he wobbled into the _ensuite_ and stared in fascinated horror at what he saw. A twin mark, bruised and bleeding, marred his own shoulder. He gingerly lifted a shaking hand to probe at it and found his eyes widening when there was no pain. Discomfort, yes. He definitely did not want to strain that shoulder. But no real pain unless he moved his arm so that the wound opened.

“I claimed her and she claimed me in turn,” he said softly. Then he noticed the scratch marks down his chest and turned to see more mirrored on his back. “Twelve be good, what set us off like this?” he wondered. He gazed longingly at the tub in the mirror but sighed. If he tried to take a bath now, he’d fall asleep and drown. Instead, he settled for wobbling back to the bed, climbing in, and settling his wife in his arms gently so they could both get some more much-needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me know what you think! Your comments really help me get through each week.


	10. A Beacon for All Mankind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now it's time for a bit of sadness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

A knock at the door the next day finally dragged T’lorna out of a deep sleep. She sat up, casting about for something to cover herself with, and shook her head when she saw that G’raha was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the world. Levering herself up and crawling down to the foot of the bed, T’lorna climbed out and found herself struggling to stay on her feet.

“You certainly wore me out, Raha,” she muttered fondly to her sleeping husband. Inching her way across the room, using the wall to help herself stay upright, she managed to make it to the door before the person knocking kicked it in.

“Two. Days,” Cid growled. “You two have locked yourself in here for two… Gods be good, what happened?” he demanded when he saw the claim mark marring her shoulder.

“It’s a Miqo’te thing,” T’lorna shrugged uncomfortably as she adjusted the shirt she wore – the one G’raha had given her – to cover it better. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“A Miqo’te thing,” Cid repeated. “I suppose that also explains why you two have not left this room in two days?” She nodded and he sighed heavily. “I brought you some food. I figured that after two days you two could use it. Biggs and Wedge were all for breaking down the door last night but, based on the sounds we could hear through it, we decided that would be unwise as both of you were alive and well.”

“Thanks,” T’lorna said. Her face heated with embarrassment as her stomach rumbled loudly when she smelled the tray Cid had carried up. Piles of scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and several pitchers of milk stood on a tray sitting on the table.

“Eat. Wake your husband and get him to eat. I’ll bring you back more. Do you think you’ll be coming out of the tower anytime in the foreseeable future?”

“I’m… not sure,” she admitted as she forced herself to walk back towards the bed. “Just bring up the food and I’ll let you know then.”

“I’ll do that. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them that you two are enjoying your honeymoon,” he winked. “Go, wake him up and eat before you fall on your face.”

T’lorna nodded and wobbled back towards the bed on unsteady feet. She gently shook G’raha who opened his ruby eyes and groaned.

“Cid brought us some food,” T’lorna said softly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m starving. And…”

“And?”

“I have begun to remember what I wished to remember,” he sighed as he sat up and cast about for some clothing. T’lorna shuffled over to the door to the _ensuite_ and retrieved his linen trousers from the floor. Deciding against walking back to him, she tossed them to G’raha and made her way back to the sitting room where breakfast awaited. A few moments later, G’raha shuffled in and sat down next to her, a small smile on his face as he watched her pile food on a plate and dig in with a gusto she normally lacked. He followed her example and they sat in silence for several moments as they worked their way through more food than either of them would have thought of eating. When Cid returned with another heaping tray, he laughed at the few crumbs left on the first one, took it, and left them with another promise to bring lunch in a few hours. Once the two Miqo’te had eaten their fill, G’raha sat back in the chair and sighed in contentment. “Everything that has happened has reminded me of my forebears’ dearest wish,” he said softly, not looking at his wife. “But, we need not speak of all that now. Come, let us spend the next few hours together. After Cid returns with lunch, I need you to return to Saint Coinach’s Find to retrieve something I left behind there. A tome,” he added, seeing the look of confusion on her face. “It’s a book on Allagan technology that I did not think to bring. You will fetch it for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Then come here,” he whispered as he stood and held out his hand, leading her back to the bedroom. She was prepared for him to take her quickly as had been his habit ever since they’d returned from the World of Darkness. Instead, T’lorna was surprised when he simply sat up at the head of the bed, his back against the headrest, and gestured for her to straddle his lap. She settled down, her knees on either side of his hips, and sat back on his thighs. He leaned forward, his hands on her hips, and kissed her languidly as if he had no care in the world beyond her. He nibbled at her lower lip and slipped his tongue in her mouth as his hands slid up her back, one stopping in the small of her back and the other cradling the back of her head so he could deepen the kiss even further. He kissed her tenderly but passionately, his fingers stroking the back of her head and neck as she stroked his arms, chest, neck, and then threaded her fingers through his hair and caressed his ears.

He groaned when she began rubbing his ears and shifted slightly, pressing her chest flush against his and slipping his hand underneath the hem of her shirt to rub her hip with his thumb. She began to purr as she ground against him. The hand on her hip drifted up to cup her breast while the other drifted down to loosen the ties of her shirt. Breaking the kiss only long enough for her to pull the shirt over her head, G’raha leaned in and kissed her breast before pulling the nipple into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He reached for the waist of his trousers and tugged them down, shifting and lifting his hips as T’lorna sat up on her knees, freeing himself from the pants.

“Lorna,” he gasped when she settled back down, her warmth against his hardness. “Take me, my love. I’m yours.”

T’lorna shifted again, reaching between them to position him at her entrance before she slowly sank down, sheathing him in her body. He groaned against her breast and let his head fall back against the headboard with a dull “thud.” His breath came in short, harsh pants as she rode him. Through hooded eyes, he watched her drive herself to ecstasy with his body, his hips moving to help spur her on.

T’lorna pressed her lips against his shoulder and planted open-mouthed kisses to it. He purred and gasped as she peppered his shoulder with kisses on his shoulder, her lips and tongue tracing over her own claim mark. His hips began to snap harder against hers as the thrill of her marking heated his blood. She pulled herself away, staring at him through glittering, hooded eyes until she threw her head back, her long, unbound hair tickling his thighs, and shuddered as she reached her peak. G’raha continued to thrust against her, helping her to ride out the high until his vision whited out and he moaned as her muscles clenched tightly around him for the last time.

“I love you,” he whispered as she leaned back against him. He reached a hand up behind her back to press against the base of her head and held her against him, her face pressed into his chest. He pressed his lips against her forehead and closed his eyes, breathing in her clean scent. “I love you with everything that I am.”

“Raha,” she sighed, sounding happily tired. “I love you with everything that I am as well.”

“Get some more rest, Lorna,” he said softly. “Go to sleep against me. Let me hold you a while longer before we have to get out of bed and face the rest of the world.”

“Okay,” she breathed as she snuggled against him, sighing in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yes, my love,” he replied, his lips soft against her temple. “In a bit.”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later, when T’lorna awoke, G’raha pretended to still be asleep. He listened as she moved through the room, searching for her clothing and arguing about whether or not she should take a bath. He prayed that she would just head out on the errand he’d set her for, the longer she remained with him, the more difficult it would be for him to do what he must.

Finally, she settled for dressing quickly and left, stopping only long enough to wolf down a few of the sandwiches Cid had brought for them. When he heard the door to the outer room close, G’raha sprang from the bed and quickly dressed as well. He walked over to the desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill and inkjar and penned a letter. Then he passed through the sitting room, eying the sandwiches and shaking his head. Bacon and tomato sandwiches – T’lorna’s greatest weakness. He ignored them for now and moved to the tower’s control room to ascertain the whereabouts of everyone inside the structure.

Sweating and swearing as he ushered the last of the researchers out of the tower, G’raha Tia forced himself to head back to the control room to prepare to place the tower in a state of suspended animation. He set the timer to begin the sequence ten minutes after he closed the great doors leading into the tower. That would give him more than enough time to return to the rooms he had shared with his wife and to bury himself in the sheets, to breathe in the sweet scent of her body mingled with his own.

That scent would help carry him through the rest of his life.

As he reached the doors, he saw Cid, Rammbroes, Biggs, and Wedge rushing towards them.

“Go no further, my friends!” he called out to them. “The doors will close ‘ere long.” Slowly and with a confidence he did not feel completely, G’raha Tia walked up to the other men.

“So you _are_ of a mind to seal the tower, G’raha,” Rammbroes said. “I know time is of the essence, but all I ask is a hint of your plan. Please, come here so we can discuss this.”

G’raha stopped just inside the doors. “No,” he said firmly. “My apologies, but I cannot.” He sighed for he knew that if he stepped outside of the tower, his will would falter and he would follow his heart instead of his head. He forced himself to smile, a smile that did not mask the sadness in his eyes.

“Come, man, what is this nonsense!?” Rammbroes demanded. “If aught is amiss, surely we can help!”

“There is nothing you can do to help. The tower must be sealed up until such a time as it and the wonders it contains can be brought forth to the world safely. That will only happen when civilization has once again reached the peak that Allag ascended. However, if we wait together for such a time, we may lose the means – the royal blood – to control the tower. Therefore, I will do what I must. I will put the tower in a state of slumber and remain within it.”

“And what of your wife? What of T’lorna?” Cid demanded angrily. “You will just leave her? Come, G’raha. Let us discuss this. Surely there is a way for you to…”

“If such a path existed,” G’raha said firmly, “I would not be doing this. No, Cid. I will not explain myself to you. Instead, I will explain myself to her. Please give my wife this letter,” he asked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he had penned earlier. “She will understand. She will explain it to you. And, if the gods are good, in time, she will forgive me. Do not ask me to stay,” he sighed, a tear rolling down his cheek and his chin trembling as he swallowed a sob. “Do not make this more difficult than it must be.”

“There is nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?” Cid sighed. “Well then, our path is clear.”

“Yes!” Wedge shouted, jumping up and down manically. “We will regain all that lost ground quickly! In just a few short years, G’raha, you’ll be in for a rude awakening!”

“I pray that will come to pass,” G’raha said softly. “Here, give this letter to my wife. And watch her for me, Cid. She drives herself too hard. She may drive herself even harder to escape the pain that…” he broke down, tears streaming down his face and his voice cracking. “The pain that I must needs inflict on us both. Take care of her for me. Please?”

“I will,” Cid nodded as he took the letter from G’raha and stepped back.

“All this has me of a mind to sleep,” G’raha laughed sadly as he stepped back away from the door. “I pray that I see you all soon, my friends. And, if not, I shall remember your deeds in the future where my destiny awaits.”

With that, G’raha turned on his heel and walked back towards the room he had claimed for himself and his wife as the doors slid shut behind him. He turned, pausing for a moment, his ears quirking back as he thought he heard his name being called out over the rumbling din of the tower closing itself shut. Shaking his head and forcing himself to continue to his rooms, he sighed when the doors closed and locked themselves securely.

Within a few moments, he had returned to the quarters he’d shared with T’lorna. He picked the shirt he’d given her to wear up from the floor and climbed into the bed that they had made their own. Pressing the shirt against his face, he closed his eyes and, within moments, was drifting off to a deep sleep.

“I pray that I dream of you, my love,” he whispered softly. “And I pray that you live a long and full life without me.”

Before he could say another word, time halted and the tower re-entered its ageless slumber with its caretaker tucked away within.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna knew that something was wrong when she arrived at Saint Coinach’s Find and discovered that G’raha had left nothing there. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she mounted her chocobo and raced back towards the tower. Once there, her fears began to break loose and cold, clammy sweat broke out on her forehead, her palms, and her chest as she saw all of the researchers standing about the Eight Sentinels talking about how they had been tossed out of the tower.

She raced up the steps towards the doors and sprinted down the corridor when she saw them starting to close. Cid, Rammbroes, Biggs, and Wedge stood on the outside and she could see her husband, her beloved Raha, walking back into the heart of the tower as the doors slid shut.

“Raha!” she screamed, throwing herself at the closing doors. Cid grabbed her around the waist and held her back, preventing her from following the Miqo’te. “Raha! Don’t leave me! What are you doing? Come back, please!”

She saw him pause and start to turn his head but the doors closed and she heard the mechanism slam, locking them securely. She threw herself at the doors and began pounding on them with her fists, screaming, begging, crying, and pleading for them to open.

“T’lorna,” Cid said softly, carefully. “T’lorna, he had to go. He didn’t want to go, but he had to. Here,” he added, holding out a folded-up bit of parchment. “He left this for you. Come. Let us go back to Revenant’s Toll. You should be with the Scions for now.”

“No,” T’lorna said stubbornly. “I’m not leaving him. I will stay here until he opens the doors for me.”

Biggs and Wedge started to argue with her but Cid held up a hand, forestalling them. “Very well,” the Garlean said softly, calmly. “We will wait here until you are ready to leave. Come, we have our tents set up on the bridge of the Eight Sentinels. We can wait in comfort there.”

T’lorna nodded blindly, her eyes still glued to the doors of the tower. She allowed Cid to guide her out of the dark corridor and into the sun. He led her to the tent she had once shared with her husband and helped her to sit down on a chair that one of the others brought out for her. For hours she sat there, staring at the tower, willing her husband to come down the stairs and tell her that he was not going to leave her.

When night fell, she began to weep. Not wildly nor loudly, but steadily. She could hear the men of NOAH speaking to her but could not make out what they were saying. Through the night, she sat on the chair, staring at the tower, tears streaming down her face and the occasional sob breaking through her clenched jaws.

Finally, near dawn, she collapsed.

She awoke some time – she would never be certain how much time – later in her room in the Seventh Heaven. She still wore the clothing she’d worn out of the tower and the parchment Cid had given her sat, still folded, on her desk next to her journal. Cid himself sat in the chair she kept at her desk. He dozed, his head lolling on his chest. Sighing, she climbed out of the small, narrow bed that was hers and hers alone, and padded across the room to pluck the parchment off the desk. She took the still-burning lamp from the desk and carried it over to the bed where she set it on the shelf that formed the headboard. Then, she unfolded the letter and began to read.

_“My dearest love,_

_I could not have asked for a better companion than you, my Lorna. How I wish I could be a part of your adventures for longer. Alas, fate dictates that I have a different role to play. A wish hidden for millennia and brought to light by the good people of NOAH… ‘tis up to me to see it realized._

_It breaks my heart to write these words to you knowing that I may never see you again. It tears at my soul that I must part from you so soon. Would that I could have remained at your side, chronicling your rise, minding our children… children which we will never have. But the blood given to me by Unei and Doga has awakened me to the fact that it is up to me to fulfill their wish and seal the Crystal Tower._

_Thinking of you, of the last days we have spent happily wrapped up with each other, claiming and marking each other, only makes it clearer that I must do this. As my father told me, the truth has always lain with Allag. Or, rather, ‘twas there the wish I must grant was born. You see, my love, not all the world perished in Xande’s calamity. Survivors stood amidst the ruins of Allag, looking to the Crystal Tower. But it was nowhere to be seen. Yet they hoped its spire would again dominate the land and prayed that the Crystal Tower would be a beacon of hope to people everywhere. Word of this soon reached the only member of Allag’s royalty to outlive the empire: the princess Salina. Salina was moved by the people’s dearest wish. She used the very best of Allag’s technology to give her blood and memories to he whom she trusted most. That man was my forebearer. For millennia, we waited. Allag’s art and ingenuity faded. Our royal blood grew thin. But before the last drop could vanish from the realm, the memory of all this returned to me._

_And thus, I must fulfill the wish of the ancients. The tower **will** shine forth as a new beacon of hope. However, as it stands, the tower and its wonders pose too great a threat to Eorzea and her people._

_The tower is a threat to you, my heart and soul._

_It will take a civilization with technology as advanced as Allag’s to make use of the wonders contained within, to comprehend them, and to bring them safely into the world at large. I could, perhaps, have remained with you to await such a world. We could wait for someone, someday, to reach the same heights as Allag, but by then we will have lost the royal blood **and** the means to control the tower._

_That is why I must do as Amon did and put the tower into a deep sleep. The tower may only be used once men rival the Allagans in knowledge. I will slumber within Syrcus Tower until then and will greet those with the means to open the gates. Then, I will guide them. And thus will the tower shine forth as the beacon of hope it was meant to be. ‘Tis the only way to make the wishes of the ancients come true._

_I know that Biggs, Wedge, Cid, and Nero will spend the rest of their lives doing their best to bring civilization back to the level of Allag. I know that you will be there with them, driving them onwards. Perhaps you will manage it and our parting, sorrowful as it is, will be one of short duration. Perhaps you will not and I will awaken to a world without you – a thought that terrifies me more than mere words can express. However, I cannot leave the tower open and I cannot risk the world losing the means to control it at some point in the future. I have considered asking you to stay with me, to sleep away the years in my arms and to be there with me to greet the coming era. However, that would be the most selfish and reckless thing I could do. Your destiny is with the world as it stands now. You are the chosen of Hydaelyn, the Warrior of Light. You are needed in the here and now to build the future. And the future is where my destiny awaits…_

_Go then, my love, my heart, my soul. Go, Lorna, and create a future where hope reigns and the tragedies of the past are but memories. No one but you can accomplish such things. It will not be easy, I know, but that is why you will do it._

_The Twelve keep you till then, my wife. I know history will remember you. No doubt your heroism will be the star by which I chart my course when I awake. I will ever strive to be worthy of your love in my life to come and, should I find you again, to make up for the many years we have been apart. Else, when my days have run their course, I will pray that the Crystal allows me to be reborn so that I may find you all over again. That we may fall in love again in a world where fate will not force a parting so quickly._

_I love you, Lorna. I will always love you. And I pray that one day you will be able to forgive me the pain I must needs inflict on us both._

_Your loving husband,_

_G’raha Tia_ ”

“T’lorna?” she heard Cid say softly. She jumped in fright at the sound of his voice. She had been so lost in reading the letter that she had not heard him wake and walk over towards her. “It’s all right, T’lorna. Let it out. You need to grieve.” That was when she realized that she was weeping again. However, something about this bout felt different. Instead of weeping because of the pain, she felt as if she were weeping to heal it. She folded the letter from her husband and pressed it to her chest, cradling it as she wished she could cradle him. She felt the bed dip as the Garlean sat down next to her and awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders. “He did what he thought he had to do. But, I promise you, the Ironworks will dedicate itself to studying everything we can about Allagan technology. Our goal will be to master it within the next ten years so that we can open the tower and wake your husband from his nap.”

“And I… I will,” she sniffed and stuttered through her sobs, “I will be there… to… to help… y-you. I-I w-will not g-give up. I l-l- _love_ him, C-Cid.”

“I know you do, T’lorna. And I know he loves you. Now, why don’t I let you wash up and get some more rest? Tomorrow you can see if the Scions have anything for you to do. Keep yourself busy while the rest of us start surveying the Allagan ruins in Mor Dhona. Keep your mind off things a bit, you know? Don’t worry. I’ll stop in to check in with you every few weeks so you’ll know what we’re up to.”

“T-that will b-be f-f-fine,” T’lorna sobbed. “T-t-thank you, Cid. F-for ever-ryth-thing.”

“It was my honor,” the Garlean said as he stood up and walked to the door. “Clean up and sleep well, T’lorna. We have a lot of work ahead of us if we’re going to wake your husband up anytime soon.”

With that, he let himself out of the room and left T’lorna to weep in peace, a mourning that presaged healing from the shock of losing her husband so soon after she’d found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying. It's raining here! 
> 
> Tell me what you think. Seriously, the comments are what help me get through each *absolutely insane week* at work.


	11. Moving On From the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the beginning of the interlude leading up to Heavensward. How will T'lorna handle being apart from her beloved Raha?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I am just playing around in this universe.

Though it was difficult and there were days when T’lorna thought she would die from the hollow, throbbing pain in her heart, the Warrior of Light forced herself to move on. In her absence to deal with the threat of the Crystal Tower, much work had piled up on the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Refugees from the Far East had arrived and sought an audience with the sultana. Their request for asylum had been denied but the Scions had invited the Domans to settle in Mor Dhona. A new adventurer’s guild was being founded and there was much for T’lorna to do to help the refugees settle in and begin rebuilding their lives.

She was grateful for the work. It kept her hands and her mind busy during the day and left her so exhausted that she dropped straight into sleep the minute her head hit the pillow each night.

Another primal reared its head, summoned by the Sahagin in La Noscea. As she made her way to it, stopping to talk with the always-entertaining Trachtoum, T’lorna briefly considered visiting her tribe and telling her father of G’raha Tia and their time together. The icy, squeezing pain that washed through her heart at even thinking about recounting the tale froze her. Instead, she gathered up her friends from Valhalla and set about sending the Leviathan back into the aether from which it had been summoned.

No sooner had she dealt with that matter than she found herself embroiled in dealing with a potential revolt in Ul’dah and facing down Ramuh in the Black Shroud. From there, she returned to the Rising Stones for a fateful meeting with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed and stretched as she dismounted from her chocobo and sent it to the stables near the Rising Stones. After dealing with the Lord of Levin, rescuing Taturu from her latest ambition to make money for the Scions, and rescuing novice adventurers from their own stupidity, the Miqo’te Warrior of Light felt as if she could sleep for a few weeks. As she glanced over her shoulder to see the Crystal Tower shining in the late-morning light, she whispered a quiet prayer that Raha would rest well and wake soon before ducking into the bar that held the Rising Stones. Pushing through the door to the Scions’ meeting place, she walked straight through to the office where Minfilia waited for word on the encounter with the slyph’s primal, Ramuh.

The Antecedent stood behind her desk, her hands folded at her waist, and her customary warm smile of greeting on her lips. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and pleasure at seeing T’lorna walk into the solar.

“Welcome back, T’lorna!” Minfilia said brightly. “Word of your momentous encounter with Lord Ramuh precedes you! I would fain share news of mine own, but Urianger’s discoveries must take precedence. Upon witnessing your defeat of the Lord of Levin, our learned companion was struck with a profound insight regarding the nature of the Ascians’ immortality. Let us assemble and discuss his observations together.”

T’lorna turned as she heard the door to the solar creak open. The rest of the Scions – Y’shtola, Papalmyo, Yda, Thancred, and Urianger – walked into the office. “If everyone is ready, let us begin. Urianger, the floor is yours.”

T’lorna turned with the others to face the enigmatic Elezen. She liked listening to his lectures – Urianger was full of knowledge of all manner of arcane matters – but something about his air of mystery always made her hackles rise slightly. She mistrusted him for his habit of keeping his hood up and never removing his red-lensed goggles. Still, as she always did, T’lorna set her misgivings aside and quirked her ears forward attentively.

“As all here assembled now know, in its final hours as our order’s headquarters, the Waking Sands did play host to a most unexpected visitor. I speak of the Ascian clad in white, Elidibus.”

As Urianger spoke, T’lorna’s heart skipped a few beats. Though he did not have the Elezen’s strange mannerisms in speaking, Raha had shared something of Urianger’s scholarly formality. Listening to the Elezen made her realize just how much she longed to hear her husband’s voice again.

“Unwelcome though his presence was,” Urianger continued, “his words that day did serve to confirm a truth long suspected: that the Ascians are eternal beings, to whom physical destruction is as a temporary inconvenience.”

“In the intervening time, Urianger and I have striven to discover a means by which the Ascians might more permanently be slain,” Minfilia added.

“And ‘tis my belief that we have found the thread that will allow us to unravel the twisted skein of their existence,” Urianger continued, nodding politely to the Antecedent. “In the moments prior to Leviathan’s most recent manifestation, the Sahagin elder who summoned him was observed to undergo some manner of ascension. The aetheric readings taken by Y’shtola at the time of this transfiguration have proven most enlightening.”

Y’shtola nodded and turned to face the rest of the gathering. “The disruption to the flow of aether was sudden and dramatic. So tangible was the agitation, I scarce had need of my goggles.”

T’lorna shuddered slightly at the memory of that encounter. The elder had been gunned down by the Admiral of Limsa Lominsa only to take possession of other Sahagin before merging himself with the summoned primal and being devoured by the summoning.

“The significance of Y’shtola’s readings might better be understood in the context of mine own, taken at the instant of the Lord of Levin’s demise,” Urianger said. “Unlike the primal, the Sahagin was not subject to aetheric dissipation.”

“Before discussing our new discoveries,” Minfilia interjected, “it may benefit us all to recall what we know of aetheric behavior. Let us begin with what some might call the end. When we who dwell in the material realm die, our spirits dissolve into the flow of aether, and are returned to the aetherial realm. In turn, the restless energy which suffuses that plane streams back into our world, giving rise to new life.”

“‘Tis as the heavens did decree,” Urianger explained, “the way of all mortal souls. ‘Twixt this world and the next do the aetherial currents swirl, bearing the very essence of life. Thus doth the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth continue unabated.”

“Primals behave somewhat differently,” Minfilia continued her explanation of the basics. “In order to manifest and then maintain a physical presence in this realm, they must consume vast quantities of aether, most often in the form of crystals. Though they may seem to live, their flesh is but aether given shape. Thus, a defeated primal leaves behind no broken corpse – rather, the essence of its form seeps back into the land whence it came, and the energy of its shattered spirit is called back to the aetherial realm.”

“And there it waiteth till next the prayers of the faithful do draw it forth from the sea of aether to take their offering of crystals and make for itself a new body…” Urianger said.

“Which brings us on to the third group. These so-called ‘immortals.’ They exist in a manner all their own,” Minfilia said, bringing the topic back around to the Ascians.

“Quite,” Y’shtola agreed. “Even as the Sahagin elder fell to the Admiral’s musket shot, I witnessed the release of an aetherial cloud which immediately took possession of a nearby minion.”

“A soul that dissipateth not upon the death of the flesh…” Urianger explained.

“The secret of life everlasting. And in the claws of a Sahagin, no less,” Thancred muttered. “But I wonder: what would happen to one of these obstinate spirits should there be no suitable host for it to claim?”

“If mortal death entails a return to the aetherial realm, it seems doubtful that the soul of an immortal would venture there,” Minfilia answered.

“Nay, it merely withdraweth a distance,” Urianger explained. “Unto the shore of the aetherial sea, perchance, but no further.”

“Yes, it exists in neither this realm nor the next, abiding instead in the space that lies between them,” Minfilia agreed. “The Ascians took control of Thancred by means of a Crystal of Darkness – an artifact which, if our theories are correct, serves as a gateway to the place I have just described.”

“I was hoping people had forgotten about that…” Thancred sighed.

“I am sorry, my friend,” Minfilia apologized.

“For a mercy, the weary road of our research hath brought us unto an answer,” Urianger added.

“The Sahagin ascended to an immortal state, but he did not possess a Crystal of Darkness through which to flee this realm. Thus was he consumed by Leviathan,” Y’shtola said, glancing at the others and waiting for their nods to see if she was correct. “If we could entrap the spirits of defeated Ascians in like manner, and thereby deny them resurrection…”

“Therein lieth the path to victory,” Urianger confirmed. “Thou art most perceptive, my lady. Only when we have trapped the bodiless soul within an aetherial prison can we hope to defeat its unnatural constancy. Thus, might even an eternal Paragon be consigned to oblivion.”

“These feats are, of course, far easier said than done. At present, we lack a viable means to entrap and extinguish an Ascian soul,” Minfilia cautioned the Scions. “Yet, I believe it to be possible. The pieces of the puzzle lie before us – we have but to put them together.”

“I will depart at once to convene with the sages of Sharlayan,” Urianger told Minfilia. “Together shall we divine the steps by which our goals may be achieved.”

“I have the utmost faith in you, Archon,” the Antecedent said warmly.

Urianger started to leave but turned back before he reached the door. “Beg pardon, Antecedent, but I would raise one final matter… Even now, a Sharlayan survey party seeketh to ascertain the fate of the Students of Baldesion.” T’lorna felt her heart begin to pound in fear and dread. She’d heard of the disaster that had struck the Isle of Vale. How would she explain it to Raha when he awoke? And why had she not been there to prevent the destruction of the isle and the order? She was supposed to be the Warrior of Light. “Their findings shall soon be known to us. Though you harbor feelings of dread, I bid you surrender not to sorrow, but abide instead in hopeful prayer.”

“I shall, Archon. Thank you,” Minfilia replied with a bright smile. “T’lorna,” she added when she saw the Miqo’te turn to leave. “Stay a moment. I would speak with you further if you do not mind.”

“As you wish, Antecedent,” T’lorna said slowly. At the moment, all she wanted to do was return to her quarters and sleep.

“You have not been yourself since you returned from that expedition to the Crystal Tower,” Minfilia said slowly, carefully. “Did something happen?”

“I do not wish to discuss this right now,” T’lorna replied, her voice soft but filled with steel. “I can’t.”

“I… I see,” Minfilia replied, her eyes widening in shock. “I will not pry where I am not wanted. Just know that if you need our assistance, the Scions will do anything you desire.”

“All I need is to get some sleep,” T’lorna said curtly.

“Then I will leave you to it,” the Antecedent said warmly, ignoring the chill in the Warrior’s tone. “Rest well, my friend. You have earned it.”

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna rolled over the pillows she kept mounded at her back – a way of tricking herself into thinking she did not sleep alone – and dressed for the day. By the sunlight streaming in through the window, she realized she’d slept quite late.

She’d had a habit of sleeping overmuch of late. Sighing, she scrubbed a hand over her face and went to the ewer to clean her teeth and wash her face.

“Perhaps I simply wish to sleep until the grief is not so galling,” she told herself. “I have also been keeping rather busy of late. Maybe I _do_ need a rest. A nice break. I could go visit my father and tell him of… of…” A fresh set of tears stung her eyes. “No. I cannot. I cannot speak of it. Not yet.”

Scrubbing her face off and brushing her hair, she left the room and headed to the solar to make her apologies to Minfilia. However, no sooner had she stepped into the solar than she saw Alphinaud waiting to speak with her. Schooling herself to have patience with the young Elezen, she walked over to see just what he had up his sleeve this time.

“T’lorna, my friend,” he said in an almost-pompous tone. She struggled to keep from smiling. Alphinaud was so determined to come across as a serious scholar and to prove himself worthy of his grandsire’s legacy that he frequently sounded more than a little arrogant. “I have a proposal to put to you. I mean to form a new organization – a group that shall pave the way for a truly united Eorzea. Pray forgive me if I tread over old ground, but I would first speak of the grand plan.” T’lorna nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Since the advent of the Seventh Astral Era, the leaders of the three nations have been deliberating over an accord that seeks to bring the disparate forces of Eorzea together into a single entity. A realm-wide Grand Company, if you will. The military might of such an institution would be drawn from every corner of the land, and directed against threats that no single nation could hope to overcome alone. Yet while the purpose of this hypothetical organization is undisputed, the logistics of its formation have become the source of endless debate. And the longer these discussions continue, the more I sense the impetus towards unification draining away. Thus have I been campaigning for the creation of what might be considered a trial company.”

“A trial company,” T’lorna said flatly. She’d been aware of the many arguments about a realm-wide Grand Company. As the Warrior of Light, each nation had sought to convince her to back their particular vision. She had allied herself with the Order of the Twin Adder of Gridania but did not consider herself beholden to that state. She’d been offered bribes by the Syndicate in Ul’dah to support their rights to control the proposed Eorzean Grand Company. The Admiral had tried to offer her ships, wealth, and even a special consideration for her tribe to back Limsa Lominsa’s views. Kann-E-Senna had said nothing outright but had made subtle remarks that only the Padajl could be trusted to be truly neutral in such an endeavor. All the politics were why T’lorna had walked away from the debates and instead found herself caught up in the quest for the Crystal Tower. “How would that work?”

“It will be on a much smaller scale than what we hope to eventually achieve, but capable of the same manner of unrestricted operation accorded to the Scions,” Alphinaud explained. “‘Tis my hope that the successful utilization of such a force will lend momentum to the lagging deliberations. Also, being a primarily military outfit, I mean to assuage fears of its misuse by placing the fledgling organization under the authority of the Antecedent. The Scions work tirelessly to protect Eorzea and its people. But, as you yourself have witnessed with the refugee revolt, there are limitations to what even we can achieve. With this new company under the Scions’ command, however, we will be capable of responding to a wider range of difficulties without straining our resources or overtaxing your formidable talents. The goals of my proposed organization and those of the Scions are ultimately identical – a point conceded by all concerned. But, before I can move forward with establishing this precursor to the true, border-spanning Grand Company, ‘tis yet necessary that I visit the three leaders and gain their official approval. A tiresome and time-consuming task – which is why I would ask that you accompany me on the journey and attend to the business of recruiting our inaugural members while I am otherwise engaged with bureaucratic formalities.”

T’lorna sighed and nodded. At the very least, it would keep her busy. If he had suggested that _she_ talk to the leaders of the three nations, she would have asked him if he had lost his godsdamned mind.

“Thank you. ‘This reassuring indeed to know that the Bringer of Light and her discerning eye will be selecting our future allies. Our first destination will be Limsa Lominsa. Let us rendezvous at Bulwark Hall?” he suggested. With that, the self-confident young Elezen turned and left the solar.

“Does he have _any_ idea just how _terrible_ an idea this is?” T’lorna growled once the door shut behind Alphinaud.

“Perhaps it will work out for the best,” Minfilia said, her voice full of hope. “After all, Eorzea could use a force whose sole mission is to ensure the safety of all peoples and will not be caught up in the politics of one nation over the others.”

“And you feel confident in controlling such a thing?” T’lorna asked. “Essentially, you’d be setting up a military wing of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Remember all the trouble we had when we were in Ul’dah and most of you were natives of that nation. How much more difficult will the three nations make our lives if we suddenly start recruiting our own godsdamned army?”

“It will not be an army…” Minfilia started to say.

“It will be a bunch of people trained in military matters and manners and given weapons, spells, armor, and more. Call it a picnic. Call it a sewing club. Call it cupcakes if you want! It amounts to an army regardless of what pretty political label you foist upon it. Don’t think that the three nations won’t see it any differently.”

“Perhaps that is true,” Minfilia said cautiously. “However, you have been tasked with finding the first members of such a group. I am certain that you will choose wisely and well and recruit those who truly have Eorzea’s best interest at heart.”

“I will do that as best I can,” T’lorna agreed, her voice dry, “but there is nothing that stops any of the three nations from bribing these recruits after I’ve brought them in. Twelve be good, I can already see the likes of Teledji Adeledji worming their way in. Even if I start out amongst the refugees from Ala Mhigo, inevitably, I’m going to bring someone in who can and will be bought.”

“Alphinaud’s family has a not insubstantial fortune,” Minfilia pointed out. “Perhaps we can use that to help off-set the chance of our Grand Company being owned by the likes of the Ul’dahn Syndicate.”

“I still think that this is going to come back to bite us and _not_ in the fun way,” T’lorna muttered as she absently rubbed the spot where Raha and claimed her. “But, I’ll do my best.”

“That is all we can ask, my friend,” Minfilia laughed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” T’lorna said as she walked to the door. “I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna returned to her rooms in the Rising Stones and spent a few hours straightening them and preparing herself, mentally, for the task to come. Once she felt ready, she closed her eyes and sought out the connection she had made with the aetheryte in Limsa Lominsa and willed herself to travel to it.

She opened her eyes and inhaled the fresh, salty sea air. Glancing around and making note of the crowd milling about, she headed directly for the Bulwark Hall where Alphinaud awaited her. No sooner had she ducked into the shady, cool confines of the hall than she spotted the Elezen standing off to the side waving at her eagerly. Setting her misgivings about this entire venture aside, she walked up to him and nodded.

“Ah,” he said brightly. “There you are. I am ready to ascend to the Bridge and speak with Admiral Bloefhiswyn.” She momentarily marveled over his ability to speak the Roegadyn’s name without tripping over his tongue. She simply referred to the woman as “Admiral” to spare herself the trouble of tangling her tongue. “While the Admiral and I are finalizing permissory boundaries and signing parchments, I would have you begin the recruitment process in earnest. I have, of course, endeavored to spread the word of our organization through various channels, but I believe a personal approach will reach many who may otherwise remain ignorant of the opportunity. As for potential members, ‘tis of no matter should they already be pledged to another institution, only that they are willing to lend their strength when the situation demands it. And you needn’t range into the countryside – the upper decks alone are populated with sufficient candidates to suit our purpose. Once you are satisfied with your recruiting efforts, meet me at the airship ticket counter that we might prepare for the next leg of our journey.” With that, the Elezen headed towards the elevator that would take him to meet with the Admiral. T’lorna watched him go and sighed.

“It would be better if I did scour the countryside and if I did exclude those who are already pledged to a Grand Company,” she muttered. “They might not be so easily swayed to work against this grand idea of yours, Alphinaud. Still, I will do what I can. Perhaps there are some within the city who would make suitable candidates.”

Turning on her heel, she headed back to the aetheryte plaza to use it to quickly transport herself through Limsa Lominsa. Her first stop was at the aftcastle where she quickly headed towards the smithing hall to see out H’naanza, the guildmaster of the armorers’ guild. He was unaffiliated with any of the other Grand Companies and remained in Limsa Lominsa only because it was a familiar waystation for those dedicated to the art of armor-making. The Miqo’te listened to her pitch patiently and then nodded.

“A precursor to a united Eorzean Grand Company? Hm. While I do admire the scope of your ambition, my responsibilities here at Naldiq & Vymelli’s keep me close to the forge. I have not the time to be traipsing hither and yon across the realm. Should you require my skills as an armorer, however, I might be willing to accept some special commissions.”

A strike out on the first attempt. T’lorna sighed and headed over to speak with Rhoswen at the Missing Member. She, like H’naanza, was not affiliated with another Grand Company. Also, as a pirate and somewhat successful business-owner, she might be less amenable to bribes. T’lorna made her pitch and then waited for the answer.

“Eh? Who in the bloody ‘ells do ye think yer talkin’ to, drylander?” Rhoswen said with her customary impatience. “I’m a pirate not some soddin’ knight in shinin’ plate! If yer lookin’ fer a self-righteous fop, try knockin’ on that dandy Carvallian’s door!”

Two down and not a bite yet. T’lorna sighed and headed over to the Anchor Yard to speak with Riol. She’d had dealings with him in the past and had found him to be mostly trustworthy, very loyal, and honest to a fault.

“Well, if it ain’t T’lorna!” he greeted her warmly. “I’d not forget a ‘venturer brave enough – or daft enough – to seek the shortcut into Titan’s bedchamber! Ye remember ol’ Riol, don’t ye? Formerly o’ the Company of Heroes? Three whistles at Bronze Lake? Aye, it ain’t often I drag me arse out to Limsa for a drink, but I’m right glad I did! How fare ye these days?”

T’lorna laughed and explained her plan to him. He mulled it over for a long moment and then nodded.

“Hm? Yer lookin’ go put together a new crew? Top-tier work? Hah, sounds like a right lark, it does! Alrighty, lass, count me in. The Heroes may’ve gone their separate ways, but I ain’t ready to climb into me grave just yet!”

T’lorna sighed in relief. One out of three and she had two more prospects in Limsa Lominsa to consider. Both were located close to the Marauders’ Guild so she made her way towards it. Her first target, Reyner, was the leader of the Marauders himself. She walked up to him and made her offer.

“Master Alphinaud’s new organization?” he asked. “Yes, I had heard the formation of his trial company was in the offing. ‘Tis with regret, however, that I must decline your invitation. As commander of the Yellowjackets, the protection of Limsa Lominsa must needs receive my full attention.”

Shrugging and knowing that recruiting Reyner had been a longshot anyway, she headed back to the Seventh Sage to meet with the very Carvallian whom Rhoswen had mentioned earlier. He led the Krakens and could, potentially, be a worthwhile ally if Rhoswen had no interest in helping out.

“An organization with the freedom to operate with territorial impunity?” he asked. “I must say, your proposal intrigues me. But the Krakens well know that there is a time to act, and a time to watch. And I’m afraid this ‘trial company’ of yours falls into the latter category.”

As she made her way to the airship ticket counter, T’lorna consoled herself with the thought that, of the five potentials she had sought out, the most trustworthy had joined. True, the other four would have been invaluable for their connections but those same connections could have caused problems for the fledgling organization. Riol, on the other hand, was a proven fighter and was as honest as the day was long. She trusted him almost as much as she trusted the Scions. Alphinaud would have to be content with just him for now.

Using the aetheryte shard at the Marauders’ Guild, T’lorna transported herself directly to the airship landing. She walked over to Alphinaud and told him how matters stood.

“Ah, a member of the legendary Company of Heroes indicated his interest? Astonishing. I knew enlisting your aid was the right choice. Few could boast the acquaintance of such an elusive character. I, too, was successful in my task: the Admiral consented to sign all the documents requiring her approval. I can only hope that my visit with the Elder Seedseer proceeds as smoothly. Pray continue on to Gridania at your own pace. I shall await your arrival at Nophica’s Altar.” With that, Alphinaud headed to the airship landing to take the next flight to Gridania. T’lorna sighed and willed herself through the currents of aether, knowing that she would beat him to the forest capitol by hours. She planned to stop in to visit with Mother Miounne at the Carline Canopy and grab a bite to eat before checking in with Vorsaile Heuloix of the Order of the Twin Adder to discuss her standing with the Grand Company. She estimated that, by the time she was finished with her various errands in Gridania, Alphinaud’s airship should be arriving.

Setting off on her tasks, T’lorna hoped that she would not find herself with too much time on her hands to think. Idleness was the surest way to send her spiraling into a depression and she could not afford to fall to her own dark thoughts just yet.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna waited at Nophica’s Altar with all the patience she could muster. Evening fell and she began to long for her bed. Just as she resolved to leave and get some sleep, Alphinaud strode into the clearing. He bypassed her and went to speak with the guardian of the grove. His conversation went swiftly and then he approached the Warrior of Light and nodded in greeting.

“My audience with the Elder Seedseer is due to commence momentarily. I would be grateful if you would once more see to the task of recruitment here in Gridania. After you deem the well of potential candidates has run dry, let us rendezvous at the airship ticket counter as before,” he suggested.

“No need to wait,” T’lorna said quickly. “I have already spoken with Laurentius, Alianne, Ceinguled, Ursandel, and Isildaure.”

“And what did they have to say?” Alphinaud asked avidly.

“Laurentius agreed to join up. I don’t trust him entirely but he does seem eager to make amends for his previous missteps. If you accept him, I would advise keeping a close eye on him to ensure that he does not get bribed,” T’lorna replied. “Isildaure also agreed. He’s not a terrible prospect but, again, I would keep an eye on him. Ursandel declined the invitation. He feels as if he is too old and as if he has allowed too much evil to happen here in Gridania. Ceinguled thinks that the organization’s goals are too unfocused and had opted to decline for now.”

“I see,” Alphinaud said softly. “Still, at least half of them accepted. Wait here for me if you don’t mind. This meeting should not take long.”

“Very well,” T’lorna sighed. She walked over to one of the empty seats and sat down. Before long, she was snoozing soundly. She woke with a start when Alphinaud shook her gently.

“The Elder Seedseer was most amenable to our requirements,” he said softly. “Shall we strike into Ul’dah whilst the iron is hot? Let us meet at the Royal Promenade and endeavor to conclude our remaining business. Our journey draws to a close, my friend.”

T’lorna sighed as she watched Alphinaud walk towards the airship landing platform. It seemed she would be wakeful a while longer. Again, she focused her will on the various aetherytes to which she had attuned and projected herself into Ul’dah. As before, she set out to speak with the few recruits she thought worth the risk.

By the time she arrived in Ul’dah, night had well and truly fallen. Exhaustion threatened to drag her down but T’lorna forced herself to remain awake and not to think about the bed waiting for her back at The Quicksand. She transported herself, using the aetheryte network, to the Royal Promenade. For once, Alphinaud had arrived before her. She walked over to him to see what he had learned since arriving in the city.

“Ul’dah,” Alphinaud said softly. “The gilded city, where one’s fortune defines one’s worth. I hope some manner of fortune is with us, and that this final leg proves as successful as the previous two. Might I suggest descending to the lower level before beginning your recruitment efforts? I do not think the sultana will take kindly to us poaching from her personal guard. Let us meet back here at the Promenade when our respective tasks are complete. Good hunting, T’lorna.” Without another word, the young Elezen walked up the stairs towards the audience chamber. T’lorna watched him go, slightly irritated. She was annoyed at the way in which he assumed she wouldn’t know better than to seek beyond the royal guards. Sighing, she left the Promenade and headed out into the city proper. Already, she had five people in mind for the invitation. First, she stopped by the Gladiators’ Guild to speak with Wilred, an Ala Mhigan refugee who she thought would be somewhat trustworthy.

“Hm? Wait,” he said as he turned to face her. “You’re the lady who came to Little Ala Mhigo looking for that masked devil. Who knows what might’ve happened if you hadn’t… I’d probably be dead, and a whole lot more of my friends besides. We were such fools,” he sighed. “Anyroad, that disaster really got me thinking – about our homeland, and about the outsider who saved us from ourselves. I realized how easily I’d been manipulated, and vowed to make of myself a more worldly man. So here I am.”

T’lorna nodded and extended her offer.

“A new company of champions?” Wilred asked, his excitement at the prospect clear on his face. “And you say it will take me to all corners of the realm? That sounds exactly like the kind of opportunity I need. And don’t worry: I’m not the same stripling you met in Little Ala Mhigo. I’ve prepared myself to fight the evil I now _know_ is out there.”

T’lorna heaved a sigh of relief. Out of her candidates in Ul’dah, the first one had taken the bait. As Wilred walked off to make his way to Revenant’s Toll, she headed out towards the Weavers’ Guild on the off-chance that Yellow Moon would be amenable to joining the new Grand Company. A few sentences with the woman disabused her of the notion and, heart heavy, T’lorna ventured over to speak with Ourcen. She’d become acquainted the woman during one of her visits to the church of Saint Adama Landama.

“Your proposed organization sounds a powerful force for good,” Ourcen conceded, “but my place is at the church with the children. Nevertheless, I wish you well in this undertaking.”

One out of two thus far in Ul’dah. T’lorna sighed and turned her steps towards Landebert, an Ala Mhigan refugee in Pearl Lane.

“Have you come to tell me the news, soldier?” he asked briskly. “Well, I’ve already heard it. Seems the would-be savior of Ul’dah’s refugees went and got himself killed, and not by your hand. He was just as much a pawn as the hapless castoffs he sought to deceive. Eh? That’s not why you’re here?”

T’lorna shook her head and explained her purpose.

“Aye,” Landebert said. “You’d be surprised what rumors drift down to Pearl Lane. I know of this glorious new company of yours, and just how far I’d go to avoid getting involved with it. Whispers on the street say your organization is funded by corrupt coin – by _Syndicate_ money. If you think you’re recruiting for a just cause, then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.”

T’lorna sighed again but accepted his answer. The new company would, she hoped, never take coin from the Syndicate. However, there was little point in wasting time and energy arguing with Landebert. Instead, she turned her steps towards her final prospect, Syntgoht over in the Sapphire Avenue Exchange. She knew that this prospect was less than remote, at best, but still, she had to try.

“A company that looks to cure the ills of the realm entire?” he said. “Listen, friend, I can scarce bear the complaints of the next stall over, let alone the conundrums of a neighboring nation!”

Accepting defeat, T’lorna walked over to the aetheryte shard and transported herself back to the Royal Promenade. As she walked over to the stairs leading up to the sultana’s chambers, she spied Alphinaud descending them.

“How fared you, T’lorna?” he asked. “What hidden gems did the streets of Ul’dah offer up to your unrelenting gaze?”

“Only one prospect was interested,” she sighed. “An Ala Mhigan refugee named Wilred.”

“Hm. A single Ala Mhigan youth? Well, you’ve certainly given us an admirable start, even if our ranks are yet somewhat thin,” Alphinaud mused. “In these troubled years following the Calamity, talk of Eorzea’s salvation must seem akin to grasping at clouds. But there are those who have risen to the challenge, nonetheless. And the hope that inspires these people was born in no small part from the victories you yourself have won. Thank you, T’lorna. I will not squander the precious gift you have placed into my keeping – these recruits will become the foundation of a new beginning. And yes, we are free to begin. As you have no doubt surmised, the sultana also graced my trial company with her blessings. Our first wave of recruitment is over, the documents signed, and the finances secure. There is naught to prevent me from taking the next step.” T’lorna narrowed her eyes at the Elezen. She did not trust this talk of ‘finances being secured.’ “You are concerned by the Syndicate’s involvement?” he asked. She nodded. She trusted the Syndicate as far as she could stand the stench of it. “As was I,” he admitted. “Thus was the origin of every coin of their contribution carefully scrutinized and recorded. This organization will not be built on corruption,” Alphinaud promised. “Naturally, I would prefer not to rely upon outside sources at all, but even my family’s substantial coffers could not sustain a venture of this magnitude. And as for the rumors and doubts surrounding this enterprise… Well, such things shall plague us until the company has had a chance to prove its worth. It will not be an easy process,” he conceded, “but we will earn the people’s trust one success at a time. Speaking of time,” he sighed, “we should waste no more of it. Let us return to the Rising Stones, and lay the first stone for a united Eorzea!”

T’lorna sighed and followed Alphinaud towards the airship landing. She was too tired to risk traveling through the aetheryte currents. Instead, she decided to ride the airship with him back to Revenant’s Toll. There, her bed awaited her. She could sleep a dreamless sleep with her pillows at her back to trick herself into thinking that her husband shared her bed. Perhaps, come the morning, she would feel better.

And perhaps the Crystal Tower would fly open and Raha would stride forth to hold her once again in truth. If she were going to wish, she might as well wish for the impossible while she was at it.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna roused from an uneasy sleep. She knew that she had dreamed but, for once, she could not recall the dream. Sighing and rubbing her throbbing forehead, she pushed herself upright and then closed her eyes and clenched her jaws against the sudden bout of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Breathing heavily through her nose, she counted backwards from one hundred, doing her best to control her stomach and remind it that she was in charge.

Long moments passed before the nausea and dizziness waned. Moving slowly, cautiously, she climbed out of the bed and walked over to the tub to start running warm water for a bath. When she had returned the previous evening, she had been too tired to wash up. As the water ran, steam curling into a misty cloud over the tub, she stripped out of her armor methodically and stepped into the basin, sighing gratefully at the feel of the hot water washing over her skin.

Though she was still exhausted after her bath, T’lorna forced herself to dress and went down to the common room to find something to eat. The smell of eggs filled the room and her stomach rumbled as she padded over to the kitchenette and fixed a plate. No sooner had she sat down to begin eating than the door to the solar opened and Minfilia and Alphinaud walked out.

“There you are!” the young Elezen said as he walked over to T’lorna. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to monopolize your time with the new Grand Company. I am preparing the inaugural ceremony and would like for you to attend it unless the Antecedent has duties to which you must attend instead.”

“Hm-hmm,” T’lorna hummed as she shoveled more eggs into her mouth.

“I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your breakfast in peace, then. Thank you once again for all of your help.”

“No problem,” T’lorna replied as she swallowed a mouthful of eggs and reached for her mug of milk. Alphinaud walked off and Minfilia took one of the empty chairs at the table.

“The Scions shall certainly be grateful to have the support of this new organization,” she said, her sky-blue eyes twinkling with warmth and a hint of mirth. “The inaugural ceremony is set to take place here at the Rising Stones. Tataru is cooperating with Alphinaud to see that all is in readiness, so I’m afraid the recruits themselves have been left to their own devices for the time being. Quite a number of new faces have arrived in Revenant’s Toll of late, and I wonder if Slafborn might not find himself overwhelmed. Would you speak with him and see if there is aught he requires?”

“Let me finish eating,” T’lorna replied around another mouthful of eggs.

“Certainly! You have earned some respite and it is not as if an hour will hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you have noted, most of my chapters are pretty long. I generally don't consider anything less than 20 pages (Courier New, double-spaced) worth a chapter. And, again, your comments are what help me get through each week. Let me know what you think!


	12. Heart of Ice and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're moving into Heavensward proper now. For those who are keeping track, it's been four - five weeks since Raha shut himself up in the Crystal Tower.

By mid-afternoon, T’lorna was wondering why she had bothered to get out of the bed that morning. Slafborn had sent her to chase down a missing shipment and the only good to come of it was that it gave her a chance to visit with Haurchefant. The Elezen commander in charge of Camp Dragonhead had been delighted to see her again and had been most impressed to hear about her adventures in the Crystal Tower. She’d also discovered that, so long as she did not talk about Raha, she could recount the tale with only minor pain.

She’d been glad of the chance to visit with the iron-haired commander. Though she’d eaten a large breakfast, she’d found herself ravenous for lunch and Haurchefant always set a good table. Over a meal of roast karakul and mulled wine, they discussed her adventures and the problem that had sent her to Camp Dragonhead.

“The incident with the new frontier hands? No, no, you need not elaborate – I have been following their progress with no small amount of interest,” Haurchefant said, a hint of annoyance in his voice concerning the missing shipments he had pledged to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Brave men and women all… They do our nation a great service. The existence of a fortified outpost in Mor Dhona will do much to dissuade the Empire from trespassing on Coerthan soil. Right glad am I that you have chosen to lend your support to this endeavor. Never let it be said that House Fortemps does not acknowledge the efforts of her allies… or her debts. ‘Twas in the spirit of gratitude that I arranged for sundry supplies to be delivered to Revenant’s Toll. That the shipment should chance to be waylaid by heretics is poor fortune, indeed. Poor fortune, I say… yet not without precedent. If you would know the truth of it, these incorrigible villains grow more organized with each passing day. This new unity of purpose we attribute to their leader – the Lady “Iceheart.” But though I have devoted significant resources to the task of identifying this woman, we have yet to learn so much as her birthname,” Haurchefant sighed. T’lorna found herself listening attentively as the Elezen spoke. “What we _do_ know is that the heretics speak of Iceheart in reverent tones, and would gladly embrace death rather than betray her. Such loyalty is rare indeed, and I fear to imagine what so committed a collective might achieve. The brigands have not yet been so brazen as to risk direct confrontation here in Dragonhead. Some few of their number have, however, been sighted not far to the west of here… and with ever-increasing regularity. A visit to Whitebrim Front may bring you the answers you seek. Will you brave the snows knowing what implacable foes may lie in wait?” he asked.

“Of course,” T’lorna nodded as she polished off a third helping of lunch. “The supplies are sorely needed at Revenant’s Toll. If I can find those who are stealing them, then it will benefit us both.”

“Halone’s blessing be upon you!” Haurchefant laughed. “Though I take no pride in the admission, many of mine own countrymen are not so well suited as you adventurers to dealing with such foes. Were they dragons, it might be otherwise! But truly, I could not wish for a finer ally. You have done much for my house in the past, and I have no doubt that I shall have cause to celebrate your deeds again ere long. Should you learn aught of value, pray return to me forthwith. A warm hearth and a warmer welcome shall be waiting for you.”

T’lorna nodded and finished her lunch. She bowed courteously to Haurchefant and then left to visit Whitebrim Front and speak with Drillemont in hopes of learning more about this “Iceheart.”

~*~*~*~

Late that evening, T’lorna began to wonder if she would ever warm up again. Her toes, her feet, her fingers, her hands… every joint in her body felt frozen as she walked back into Haurchefant’s hall at Camp Dragonhead. The Miqo’te desired nothing so much as a steaming hot bath, a meal that would singe her mouth, and three weeks of sleep. For all that, however, her hunt at not been without fruit. Drillemont had told her more about Iceheart and her followers and a knight of House Durendaire had set her on the trail of this Iceheart. At the moment, the Warrior of Light was confident that Iceheart was working out of the region and that a careful guard set on future shipments should be enough to discourage the heretics from plundering the goods meant for Revenant’s Toll.

Ducking into the great hall in Camp Dragonhead, T’lorna walked up to the desk where Haurchefant sat and made her report.

“Your return is most timely,” the silver-haired Elezen said as he stood up and walked out from behind his desk. “Of their own accord, my thoughts had turned to your task and the progress thereof. I confess, my imaginings tended toward the grim and the bloody. But you are here now, and I suspect such frivolous wonderings do little justice to the reality of your travails. Tell me, what did you learn of Iceheart?”

“I learned that she and her followers are operating out of Snowcloak,” T’lorna explained. “And that they believe that they are acting in the name of the truth. There were mentions of something about a lie that Ishgardian society was founded upon.”

“Indeed,” Haurchefant sighed. “And this transpired at Snowcloak? Of all the highlands, that towering wall has borne the worst of the region’s brutal shift in climate. So inhospitable has Snowcloak become that we have still to survey the area in its entirety. Could its frozen heights conceal the heretics’ hideaway? Mayhap a more robust reconnaissance is in order,” he mused. “Putting such considerations aside for the moment, we still know far too little of this Iceheart. That she is capable of commanding such a band of fanatics bespeaks natural authority, and no small measure of charisma.” He sighed and shook his head, walking back to his seat behind the desk. “As much as I would like to fathom this mystery with you, the situation has grown beyond my personal purview. I am bound by duty to inform the Temple Knights and request that they bring this matter to its conclusion. Given the glowing reports their new commander has garnered thus far, I am certain that they can be relied upon to take appropriate action,” he grinned. “Though Iceheart’s true identity yet eludes us, you have provided us with a point from which to begin. Sometimes it takes but a single stone to prompt an avalanche. On the matter of the stolen provisions, I have already made arrangements for a second shipment to be sent to Revenant’s Toll. I could not well allow such an honorable venture to be undermined by one miserable setback!”

T’lorna nodded in agreement and gave Haurchefant one of her now-rare smiles. The Elezen grinned at her and resumed his seat at his desk. Slowly, wearily, she turned on her heel and closed her eyes, willing herself to transport through the aether to the aetheryte at Revenant’s Toll. She would report to Slafborn and then see what else she had to do before the day wore thin and she could, without excuse, retire to her bed.

~*~*~*~

Upon returning to Revenant’s Toll and reporting in to Slafborn, T’lorna learned that the inaugural ceremony Alphinaud was planning was set to begin soon. Though she was weary beyond measure and desired nothing so much as a return to her bed – following a hot bath and a good meal – she forced herself to walk through the Seventh Heaven bar and enter the Scions’ sanctum of the Rising Stones. Walking up to Tataru, T’lorna asked her how things were faring.

“These parchments need to be sorted, and _these_ documents… _why are they even here_!? Oooh! I am sorely tempted to file the lot in my wastepaper basket!” the Lalafell shouted angrily. “T’lorna!” she jumped in fright. “You startled me! You wish to lend me a hand?” T’lorna nodded wearily. However, she owed the secretary of the Scions too much to refuse to help out. “Splendid! Would you be a dear and hand these uniforms,” Tataru gestured to a stack of clothing beside the table, “to the new recruits? They’re scattered about Revenant’s Toll and I haven’t the time to track them all down!” T’lorna sighed but nodded. “The recruits know to don their garb immediately and assemble here in the Rising Stones. You’ll want to report directly back to Alphinaud if you don’t wish to miss the ceremony!”

T’lorna sighed. She had little desire to watch another overly-officious ceremony but knew enough to bite her tongue. She gathered up the uniforms and shoved them into her satchel. As she headed out, she heard the Lalafell muttering about whether or not the Scions would ever have matching uniforms and about how she loved well-dressed and well-organized groups.

The exhausted Miqo’te tracked down each of the newest recruits for Alphinaud’s Grand Company and handed over their uniforms with instructions to go change and report to the Rising Stones. When she’d passed the last uniform over, she herself headed back to watch the inaugural ceremony even as her eyelids threatened to slam shut and stay shut for the next few days. The ceremony was set to take place in the main chamber of the Rising Stones. T’lorna made her way back there and moved to stand with the rest of the Scions. Thancred, Y’shtola, Yda, Papalymo, and Minfilia stood off to one side while Alphinaud walked out of the solar and addressed the gathering. T’lorna had to admit that the recruits were a smart-looking bunch in their bright blue coats and hats. Alphinaud might not have much practical experience but the young Elezen did have style. She would give him that much.

“Comrades!” he announced as he glanced over the recruits in their natty uniforms. “Your presence here this day signifies the momentous choice that each of you has made. With your strength now pledged to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, you are beholden to no single nation. You stand as the vanguard for a united Eorzea! From this moment forth, I declare you Crystal Braves! Let us mend this fractured realm, and face our enemies as one!” At that, the inaugural Crystal Braves cheered. “Whether it be the beastmen and their primals, or the conflict in Carteneau, it is plain that the nations of Eorzea cannot solve the problems which plague the realm. Thus does it fall to some few heroic souls to succeed where they have failed! Come! Take your place at the Scions’ side as guardians of Eorzea! And together we shall fight for the freedom of all!”

“For the freedom of all!” the Crystal Braves shouted as they saluted, their right fists in the air at their shoulders. At that, the Crystal Braves broke ranks and began to mingle and talk with the Scions and their allies who had gathered at the Rising Stones for the inauguration. T’lorna was surprised at how short the ceremony had been. From what she had learned of Alphinaud Leveilleur, she’d expected an hour-long speech.

“A rousing speech, Alphinaud,” Minfilia said when the young Elezen approached her. “Or should I say, Crystal Brave Commander Leveilleur?”

“Please, Antecedent,” Alphinaud said with a touch of asperity. “The title is honorary. I shall not be ‘leading the troops into battle,’ as it were. We are of the same purpose. Let us join hands, and do what must be done to save this land.”

“The Scions stand ready,” Minfilia promised. T’lorna, tired as she was, nodded in agreement. She gazed out over the Crystal Braves. Most, she recognized. However, one man whom she knew by reputation she studied hard. Ilberd Feare was someone she had considered but discarded. An Ala Mhigan refugee, she knew that he burned with a desire to free his homeland and would think of little else. That was why she had not recruited him. However, if he had come of his own accord to join this organization, perhaps she had been wrong. Frowning slightly, she promised herself that she would keep an eye on him and ensure that he did not drag the Crystal Braves into a battle aimed at freeing Ala Mhigo with no thought to the rest of the realm.

“I’m eager to see what the Crystal Braves might accomplish,” Minfilia said later as the gathering began to break up. “This shall prove an interesting time indeed for the Scions.” T’lorna struggled not to yawn as Minfilia’s linkpearl sounded and she began speaking with someone far distant. “So, our worst fears are confirmed,” Minfilia said to whoever it was to whom she spoke. “The entire isle… Such power defies comprehension… Truly!? Krile is alive!? Thank the Twelve… I see. Pray inform me if her condition changes. Yes. I shall pass on your words to Urianger. My thanks. I shall contact you anon.” With that, the Antecedent ended her conversation and turned to regard T’lorna with a smile. “When I learned of the loss of the Isle of Val, I dared not hope that my friend had survived. Yet by some miracle, it would seem she has. She has still to regain consciousness, it is true, but better that than death. Putting this happy news to one side, we must now endeavor to make sense of the readings taken by the survey party. It appears the aetheric disturbance which accompanied the isle’s destruction is of a magnitude alarmingly close to that of Ultima. Could the Ascians be responsible for this devastation as well? I wonder… Have you heard aught from the Mothercrystal since the battle with the Garleans?”

T’lorna shook her head. She’d had a few glimpses through the Echo, true, but no communication from Hydaelyn since that last battle where Thancred had been saved.

“Then she speaks to neither one of us. Hydaelyn’s silence portends naught but ill, I fear,” Minfilia sighed. “Louisoix,” she prayed as she glanced back over her shoulder to regard the shattered remnants of his staff Tupsimati. “I pray you yet watch over us.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed. A week had passed since the inauguration of the Crystal Braves and already she wondered if they would be worth the trouble. Rumors of a Garlean agent infecting the ranks had forced an investigation that resulted in the arrest and confinement of a Brave called ‘Ivy.’ Beyond that, T’lorna found herself on the path to Snowcloak to fight her way through to confronting Iceheart in hopes of ending the encroachments upon the shipments between Camp Dragonhead and Revenant’s Toll. As she shivered her way across Coerthas, she wondered if she would ever feel warm again.

Fighting her way through Snowcloak with Alphinaud at her side, she found herself face-to-face with the woman behind the heretics, Iceheart herself. She’d come to this godsforsaken part of Coerthas at the bidding of Ser Aymeric, the leader of the Knights of Ishgard, and Haurchefant. After fighting through the passes of Snowcloak to arrive at the aetheryte buried deep within the icewall, T’lorna was not best pleased when she heard a woman’s voice from behind her.

“The tales do not do you justice, Warrior of Light.” T’lorna turned to see a tall, statuesque Elezen woman standing behind her. The woman had waist-length silver-grey hair and pale grey eyes. She wore blue, white, and black garments decorated with silver. With her icy demeanor, she was every ilm the Iceheart she had been named. “Yes, I know who you are. And you know who I am. I was given the name Ysayle, but I earned the name Iceheart. This endless cycle of hatred, of bloodshet, of sorrow – You would see it continue, O noble Warrior of Light? I would not. I _will not_. I will bring an end to this war between dragon and man – no matter the cost. In time, you will come to understand that what we do, we do for the greater good. For Eorzea. For Hydaelyn.” Coolly, calmly, Iceheart approached the aetheryte and used it to transport herself elsewhere, leaving the Miqo’te Warrior of Light alone in the icy cavern with much to consider. Leaving Snowcloak to return to her allies in the pass, T’lorna resolved to learn more about this war between man and dragon everyone was referring to and determine how, exactly it had come to start.

~*~*~*~

Though she had been resolved to track down the mystery of Iceheart and her words, T’lorna found herself back on the trail of the elusive Ivy, the person spying and selling the secrets of the Crystal Braves and their supporters. With the help of Yugiri, the leader of the Doman refugees, and Ilbred, a rising officer in the Crystal Braves, they managed to track the spy down and corner her in Gridania. T’lorna was relieved to find out that the spy was not one of the people she had recruited. Eline Roaille. The fact that the woman was selling secrets not only from the Braves but also from the Immortal Flames only made her feigned innocence and protestations more infuriating.

“The Monetarists, the Garleans, and even the Dravanians,” T’lorna muttered as she settled behind her desk in the Rising Stones. “Was there anyone she _wasn’t_ spying for? Seven hells, she might have been working for the Ascians too, while she was at it.”

Sighing in frustration, T’lorna gave up trying to write in her journal. Instead, she left her quarters and went down to the solar to speak with Minfilia to update her on the latest news.

“Charges of treason and espionage against Eline Roaille?” the fair-haired Antecedent gasped in shock. “I can scarce believe it… Could there not have been some misunderstanding?” she wondered before giving a small shake of her head. “No, it avails us naught to dwell on it. Whatever the truth may be, we must trust to the authorities to uncover it. Let us speak of another matter. I am pleased to report that we have made progress in our efforts to find a way into Iceheart’s sanctum. As you may recall, Iceheart used the aetheryte in the depths of Snowcloak to teleport a short distance to the west – most likely to a sanctuary of some description. It is there that we suspect she means to summon Shiva using the crystals she stole from the House Fortemps caravan. The heretics believe that they are bringing about the second coming of their patron saint. But if, as we suspect, they mean to hold a summoning ritual of the kind employed by the beast tribes, it seems likely that the result will be something more akin to a primal. Suffice it to say, they must be stopped – and stop them we shall. But first, we must surmount the obstacle that Iceheart has placed in our path. Ordinarily it would be a simple matter to tap into the established Aethernet and thereby follow our quarry. However, despite our best efforts, we have been unable to ascertain the position of the aetheryte to which she teleported. Our prevailing theory is that she destroyed the second aetheryte upon arrival – a reckless, desperate measure, but also an effective one. After discussing the matter at length with Urianger, we have concluded that we lack the expertise to develop a solution. Which is why we have called upon the aid of one who _does_ possess such expertise – a colleague of ours who is currently en route to Revenant’s Toll from Sharlayan. She should be arriving within the hour, in fact. Since you are here, mayhap we could welcome her together. I am certain she would appreciate the gesture. Let us make our way to the northern gates and await her coming.”

T’lorna nodded and followed the Antecedent out of the Rising Stones and through Revenant’s Toll. As soon as she stepped outside the Seventh Heaven, T’lorna’s gaze fell on the Crystal Tower rising out in the distance.

“My love,” she whispered as she gazed at it fondly, her heart breaking in her chest, “you would not believe the week I have had. Perhaps when you awaken, you’ll laugh to hear it. Sleep well, Raha. Sleep and wake in that better future I will build for you.”

With that, she set off towards the northern gates, following in Minfilia’s wake.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna did not have long to wait. Mere moments after she stepped up beside Minfilia, a chocobo-cart pulled up and a powerfully-built Roegadyn woman stepped out. She had the tattoos of an archon on her neck and the symbol for the Students of Baldesion on her thigh. T’lorna’s heart constricted at the site of both and she clenched her jaws and fists to keep from making a sound. The woman stretched as and then turned to face the Antecedent and the Warrior of Light.

“Minfilia, am I right?” the woman asked.

“None other,” Minfilia said warmly. “I bid you welcome to Revenant’s Toll, and thank you for traveling so far on such short notice.”

“Hah!” the Roegadyn laughed. “As if I could ever say no to Urianger!” T’lorna made a sound of confusion and Minfilia turned towards the Miqo’te with a smile.

“Moenbryda is an accomplished Sharlayan scholar and an authority on aetheryte technologies,” the Antecedent explained. “She has played an invaluable role in our search for a means to capture Ascian souls.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Moenbryda said with a slightly arrogant tone. T’lorna just nodded. She was still gripping her emotions too tightly to offer anything beyond bare acknowledgement. Before she could think of anything to say, Minfilia suggested a return to the Rising Stones and led the three of them back. Once they were safely ensconced in the solar with the rest of the Scions and greetings had been exchanged, the talk returned to the topic at hand: the search for Iceheart.

“I bid Moenbryda join us here that she might share with us her extensive knowledge of aetherytes,” Minfilia explained. “Also, as many of you are already aware, she has been overseeing our research into white auracite – a sample of which she has been good enough to bring with her.”

At that, Moenbryda reached into her satchel and pulled out a large, white crystal capped with gold. “Well, I had to come, didn’t I?” she chuckled. “You’d have to be bloody _daft_ to turn your nose up at a chance like this. Where better to conduct my final tests than a land so steeped in aether you can taste it!?

“‘Tis plain the passage of the years hath done little to dampen thy youthful spirits,” Urianger’s voice came from near the door to the solar. T’lorna turned to watch the reunion curiously. “And nothing at all to reform thy youthful manner.” Moenbryda smiled, a bright smile that lit up her entire face, and then ran over and embraced Urianger in a bear hug. T’lorna snorted in amusement. She had never seen the self-contained Elezen quite so out of sorts.

“Urianger!” Moenbryda laughed. “Where in the hells’ve you been hiding?”

“Un…unhand me,” the Elezen squirmed. Moenbryda lifted the man off his feet and then set him down and let her arms fall away.

“I come all this way, and _that’s_ what you have to say to me!?” the woman honestly looked hurt by his curtness. “I much preferred when you were pleading with me to drop everything and hurry to your side. What was it you said? ‘None save thee can satisfy this need…’”

Urianger flinched but Thancred chuckled and said “Go on…”

“Th-thine artless attempts to misrepresent mine all-too-innocent motives do thee little credit!” Urianger said quickly, covering his face with a hand. “Mine intent, as well thou knowest, was but to impress upon thee the gravity of the circumstance. Lest thou doubt, a deiform entity shall shortly be summoned, save if thou, and no other, grantest my compeers thine aid.”

“You still haven’t found it, then?” Moenbryda said, turning back to face Minfilia. “Your missing aetheryte?”

“We have not, no. We know that Iceheart teleported to an aetheryte not far from the first, yet even after careful analysis, we could not locate the second beacon. We now suspect that the heretics destroyed the second aetheryte to impede our pursuit. Our allies continue to scour Snowcloak for Iceheart’s sanctuary, but we have no guarantee that they will find it. Yet it must be found, for even now Iceheart prepares to call upon Saint Shiva.”

“I’m sorry but… if the aetheryte’s been destroyed, then that’s that,” Moenbryda sighed. “Although,” she mused. “You’re absolutely sure she used the first aetheryte, are you? She didn’t just use teleportation magicks?”

“One of our own bore witness to her escape,” Minfilia replied. “I can say with absolute certainty that Iceheart used the aetheryte.”

“In that case,” Moenbryda grinned, “there might be a way – so long as the aetherial current is still flowing.”

“Truly? How?” the Antecedent asked.

“We use the current to recreate the beacon,” Moenbryda replied. “As you know, aetherytes are a bit like lighthouses. We use them to reconstitute our physical forms when crossing the aetherial sea. Without them, we’d lose all sense of direction and our essence would dissipate. However, we don’t rely solely on these beacons. There are currents of aether which flow between them – currents which help guide us to our destination. Now, these currents will gradually dwindle away to nothing if an aetheryte is destroyed. But if even a sluggish flow remains, we could theoretically use it to direct a surge of concentrated aether towards the void left by the beacon and thereby fill it up again.”

“Like opening the floodgates to fill a dry riverbed,” Thancred muttered. “Though, correct me if I’m wrong, but would we not need a veritable reservoir of aether?”

“In concert, we _might_ manage to channel a sufficient volume, yet that is not my chief concern,” Papalymo added. “To direct the flow of so great a volume of aether with the requisite precision would be a nigh-impossible task in itself.”

“I barely succeeded in facilitating travel to an unattuned beacon,” Y’shtola muttered. “That which you describe sounds considerably more difficult.”

“And dangerous!” Moenbryda agreed. “Every person who has attempted to teleport int his fashion has died in the process. They, however, did not have white auracite at their disposal! I can use it to channel all the aether you can give me into the aetheryte. However, white auracite cannot retain aether for an extended period of time, so we would need to infuse it immediately beforehand. Just so you know, I’d confidently give this plan better than even odds of success. And if worst comes to the worst, your people won’t suffer.”

“Though it risk the lives of our best and brightest, we have not the time to seek other options,” Minfilia sighed. “If the aetherial current still flows, we shall carry out Moenbryda’s plan.”

“That’s the spirit! Let’s roll the dice!” Moenbryda cheered.

~*~*~*~

As T’lorna made her way to Snowcloak, she considered her options. Moenbryda and Minfilia had both admitted that the method they were planning to use was dangerous and could result in her death. While she was more than accustomed to risking her life for the good of Eorzea and the Scions, the Miqo’te had to admit that the thought of dying – of being free of the agony of missing her husband – almost appealed to her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to lay down her burdens and sleep until her soul was reborn in an era where she and Raha could finally be together. However, most of her wanted to continue to fight, to protect, to heal the ravaged land she called home.

“Am I insane?” she asked her chocobo. “I long to lie once again in Raha’s arms, to have his breath tickle the back of my neck. To watch his face as he moves inside me. I miss him so much, Eurymedon. At night, I dream of him laying next to me. I dream of his tender kisses. I dream of him stroking my face, my breasts… Is it so wrong of me to hate waking?”

“Waark,” Eurymedon said.

“You’re right. I must press on. I must build the future he entrusted to me. Who knows but that, in a few years, we will open the Crystal Tower again and my soul will awaken. True, I will be a few years older than him but that won’t matter. Gods,” she sighed, “I feel as if the best part of me is missing.”

“Wark.”

“I will do that, then,” she laughed softly. “I will devote myself to doing what must be done for Eorzea. No simple path of sleeping for me!”

As she finished her conversation with her mount and stalwart companion, the glacial rise of Snowcloak emerged before her. Steering Eurymedon through the close cavern, she hopped off the red-feathered bird and walked over to greet Alphinaud.

“Good to see you, T’lorna,” the young Elezen said grandly. “I was starting to wonder if you were having second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts? I’m on my fifth set of thoughts,” T’lorna sighed. “But still, I will do what must be done.”

“I see. Well, Captain Ilberd sends his regards, by the way. He attends to the interrogation of Eline Roaille in Ul’dah even as we speak. But I shall not distract you from the matter at hand. We can discuss the Ivy upon your return.” At that, Alphinaud blushed and grew distracted. Clearly he knew that there was a more than even chance T’lorna would not survive to return. “I trust that…” he stammered. “By which I mean to say… Ahem. The other are waiting for us at the aetheryte. After you, Scion.”

T’lorna grinned and gestured for Alphinaud to walk beside her. Together, they made their way through Snowcloak and to the aetheryte where she had spoken to Iceheart last. The rest of the Scions and Moenbryda were gathered around it, waiting for the two stragglers.

Once Alphinaud and T’lorna were near, Moenbryda held up the white auracite and the Scions began to channel aether into it. The crystal began to glow and then emitted a burst of light.

“There,” Moenbryda said triumphantly. “It’s ready!” She held it up and directed the aether gathered in the auracite into the aetheryte crystal. After a few moments, the auracite grew dim and then darkened as the aetheryte flashed.

“Hah! It worked… I think,” the Roegadyn laughed. “Try attuning to the aetheryte now,” she told T’lorna. “Feel for the current and try to locate the beacon.”

T’lorna nodded silently and attuned herself to the aetheryte. She could feel the flow of aether and the current that led towards where Iceheart had vanished.

“We have done all we can, T’lorna,” Alphinaud said calmly. “For now, let us withdraw. When your final preparations are complete, you must seek out the beacon we have created. If, by the grace of the Twelve, you arrive safely, you must stop Iceheart before she summons Shiva.”

“I will,” T’lorna promised as she pressed her link-pearl against her ear and sent out a call to Jinpu. Vahalla would help her once more, she was certain.

~*~*~*~

“You look like shite,” Syris said with his customary grace and wit.

“Thank you, Sy,” T’lorna muttered as she rubbed her eyes. She’d gotten very little sleep the night before. Jinpu had agreed to rally Vahalla again – the Free Company was eager to earn the coin promised by both Ishgard and the Scions for overcoming Iceheart. “As always, your words are poetry in my ears.”

“No, I mean it,” the Elezen insisted. “You look like you’ve not slept in a week and as if you’ve been on short-rations besides. You’re not getting sick, are you? I know that you Miqo’te don’t like the cold. If you’re coming down with something, maybe you should sit this fight out. We have other healers…”

“I’m going to help you,” T’lorna growled. “I’m tired, yes, but I can do this.”

“Give over, Syris,” Geralin muttered. “I’ll talk to her.”

T’lorna narrowed her eyes and glared at the other Elezen. Geralin met her gaze evenly and shrugged. “You do look rough, little sister. And where is your husband? Why isn’t he here to take care of you?”

“Husband?” she repeated, surprised at what Geraline knew. “Who else knows?”

“Most of the Free Company will put it together,” the Elezen said dryly. “The wedding band on your finger tells the tale easily enough. Besides, you and G’raha Tia were practically inseparable those last few weeks. Did he have to return to the Students of Baldesion? Is that why he isn’t here?”

“He had… he had other work to be about,” T’lorna said quickly, blinking away the tears before they could betray her. “I miss him.”

“I’m sure you do,” Geralin said evenly. “Well, regardless, if he’s left you, we’ll hunt him down and make him regret it. If he is off on business, then we will do our best to keep you occupied until he returns. So, it’s Saint Shiva we’re facing, is it?”

“Yes,” T’lorna said, grateful beyond words for the change of topic. “A woman, Iceheart, plans to summon her. Do you know aught of her?”

“Of Shiva? Or this Iceheart?” Geralin asked. “I know something of Saint Shiva. She was a heretic who lay with a dragon long ago. It is said that she could wield ice the way that I wield my blade. Since you mentioned her name, I’ve had the magi enchanting everyone’s armor to resist ice magic and imbuing our weapons with fire magic. That should give us a slight edge against her.”

“I’m glad you thought ahead,” T’lorna sighed. “Who is handling the enchanting and imbuing?”

“Marcus, of course. Go see him. You’ll be the last one to be set up with the necessary safeguards. We’ll be using this aetheryte?” he asked, pointing to the large, dark crystal in front of them.

“Yes. The current is sluggish so I’ll go through first. Once I have arrived safely, I’ll do what I can to make the flow a bit faster and I’ll send you word through the link-pearl to follow in my wake.”

“That sounds like a fine plan,” Geralin nodded. “I’ll go tell the others. You go see Marcus and get set up. We’ll talk later, little sister,” he promised.

“Later,” she agreed as she headed over to see the man who could make anything out of materials at hand.

~*~*~*~

“Before you go,” Alphinaud said as T’lorna prepared to lead Valhalla into Snowcloak, “I believe Ser Aymeric sent word since he could not be here himself.”

“Oh?” T’lorna asked.

“Yes,” the young Elezen said. “He sent this missive. Here, read it.”

T’lorna took the folded letter and began to read.

“ _Ishgard faces an unprecedented threat – yet in our hour of need, it is not her knights who stand poised to defend her. T’lorna Zhiki, the Warrior of Light, savior of Eorzea – your deeds this day shall not be forgotten. Where others would flee, you choose to remain. Where others would falter, you rise to the challenge. Where others would use their gifts for selfish ends, you wield yours in service to a greater cause. May Halone bless you with good fortune and see you safely home._ ”

T’lorna folded the letter, nodded to Alphinaud, and then gestured for the fighters of Valhalla to follow her. Unerringly, she led them through the caverns of Snowcloak to the aetheryte where she had once spoken to the leader of the heretics. She closed her eyes and willed herself to join the aetherial current, following it to the beacon they had reactivated.

“I’m safe,” she said through the link-pearl. “Follow close.”

Moments later, the rest of Valhalla stood with her. She gazed out over the area. They were in an arena of sorts and Iceheart knelt in the center. The area was coated in ice and the seats that marked it as more of an amphitheater than arena, steamed with the chill. Elegant braziers flanked each staircase. T’lorna thought that, once upon a time, this might have been a nice place to come and listen to a speaker or watch a play. Her gaze fell upon the woman kneeling in the center of the stage. From her posture, the elegant Elezen was well aware that she had company of an unfriendly nature. Jinpu started to walk up to the silver-haired woman but T’lorna stopped him. Stepping into the arena and approaching Iceheart herself, the Miqo’te waited for the other woman to speak.

“You should never have come here, Warrior of Light,” Iceheart said coldly. Everything about the woman and the arena was cold. Even the braziers around the arena gave off little heat. “I labor only to forge a lasting peace. A peace you would deny us out of ignorance and blind faith. No matter. If it is our fate to be at odds, then it is _mine_ to strike you down.” T’lorna felt a pain in her temples as Iceheart lifted her hands up as if beseeching the gods. “We whom gods and men have forsaken shall be the instruments of our own deliverance!” Iceheart shouted. “Partake of my flesh – fill this vessel with your light! Walk amongst your brothers and sisters once more! O Saint Shiva, still the hatred within our hearts and bless us with eternal grace!”

T’lorna and the others watched in horror as Iceheart did not summon Shiva. Instead, she _transformed_ into Shiva. Sharp, large shards of ice surrounded the woman until she was encased within their depths. They shattered and, in place of the silver-haired Elezen was a primal. Saint Shiva floated above the icy floor of the arena, her pupil-less gaze serene as she stared at the fighters with more than a touch of contempt. She snapped her fingers and shards of ice slammed into the ranks of Valhalla. The ice melted almost immediately under the fire-imbued shields from the magi.

The battle was joined.

Shiva, using the body of Iceheart as her vessel, flung ice-spell after ice-spell at the fighters. Their armor helped them to resist the cold as Geralin and Syris took up position in front of the primal while the others flanked her. She sent out waves of shard swords of ice to hit the paladin and the dark knight and groaned as explosions of fireballs, flames, and arrows slammed into her back. In anger, she summoned her “brothers” to her aid. The melee ranks kept the ice golems away from the healers and the ranged attackers while the back ranks rained their strongest and quickest attacks against the golems.

T’lorna wove and danced amongst all the ranks, shielding them, healing them, and cleansing them from Shiva’s many different attacks. The primal in Iceheart’s flesh snarled in frustration and began to fly around the arena in ever-closing circuits, summoning ice and snow in her wake. Once she hovered above the center again, she snapped her fingers, causing the ice to shatter. Only Marcus’s work on their armor kept the members of Valhalla from suffering grave damage from this attack.

Finally, after nearly a half-hour of concentrated battle, the primal faltered and faded, leaving only Iceheart in the center of the battle site. The Elezen faltered, falling to her knees in front of T’lorna.

“Fool,” she panted. “Blind, bloody fool.” Her grey eyes bored into T’lorna like icy augurs. “You of all people should understand the suffering war begets – that no sacrifices is too great if it brings an end to the violence. _Mine_ is the righteous cause!” Iceheart forced herself back to her feet and continued to berate the Miqo’te. “You fight in a war you do not understand – a pawn of liars and schemers. And they are no less ignorant than you! Following the creed of their fathers without question, never thinking to ask why. Trapped in a delusion of their own creation and blind to the truth. Warrior of Light,” she sighed, facing T’lorna wearily, “redemption is not beyond us. We who walk before may lead those who walk after. Seek the Keeper of the Lake. See with eyes unclouded. Do… do not squander Mother’s gift,” she pleaded. With that, Iceheart turned and a blast of wintry air washed out over the arena. A portal formed and the same words which T’lorna had heard so many times from Hydaelyn rang out.

“Hear… Feel… Think…”

For a moment after Iceheart left, T’lorna thought she sensed the presence of another. However, she could hear and see nothing in the arena. Sighing, she signaled to the fighters of Valhalla that the fight was over. Most of them teleported directly back to the Free Company’s headquarters while the Miqo’te went to make her report to the Scions with Geralin and Syris on her heels. She groaned knowing that the two Elezen would not give her a moment’s peace until she told them the whole tale as to why her husband was not at her side. Once they were outside of Snowcloak, she gestured for the men to leave her be while she spoke with Moenbryda and the Scions.

“By the Twelve,” the Roegadyn gasped as T’lorna walked up to her. “You’re alive! I-I mean, of course you’re alive! Why wouldn’t you be?”

T’lorna sighed and made her report, explaining how the woman’s theories had panned out. Moenbryda listed with impatience but kept silent until the blonde Miqo’te was finished.

“Iceheart did _what_?” she demanded in shock. “And… you’re certain about that, are you? Dravanians are skilled with glamours, after all. Look, if you say that’s what you saw, I believe you,” she added quickly when T’lorna glared at her. “It’s just that I’ve never heard of a primal being summoned like that before. Are you sure you’re not injured? Head trauma has been known to cause hallucinations, you see…” T’lorna growled at her and Moenbryda stepped back at the hard look in the Miqo’te sapphire eyes. “No? Fair enough. I was only asking. If you ask me, there’s naught to be gained from mulling over the implications of your story in the freezing cold. Let’s save it for the Rising Stones, eh? I’ll get everyone to meet us there. But before that, you had best pay a visit to Whitebrim Front and speak with Alphinaud. He’s probably worried sick about you. That, or he’s busy playing at politics with the Ishgardians. Either way, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you hale and healthy. Speaking of which – you don’t have a headache or anything, do you?” T’lorna glared at the woman. “No? Blurred vision? Oh, no reason!” Moenbryda chuckled nervously, wringing her hands with anxiety. “See you again soon!”

T’lorna held her temper as she mounted her chocobo and made her way to Whitebrim. She would leave Moenbryda to gather the rest of the Scions while she checked in with Alphinaud and assured him that she was fine. The trip to Whitebrim, with Geralin and Syris on her heels, took little time. She climbed the stairs of the main building until she found Alphinaud standing with Ser Aymeric and Drillemont.

“There she is – and none the worse for wear!” Alphinaud cheered upon seeing the Miqo’te. “Was there every any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed? I think I speak for all of us when I say that I should like nothing more than to hear the stirring tale of your victory – if you would be so kind,” the Elezen youth asked.

T’lorna sighed and gave him and the others a brief recount of the battle.

“Then we were too late to prevent the summoning…” Alphinaud muttered.

“But not too late to prevent further loss of life,” Aymeric pointed out. “An outcome worthy of celebration. And one for which we have T’lorna to thank.”

“Yes, you are right, of course, Ser Aymeric. We should be content with what we have accomplished,” Alphinaud agreed.

“I for one could not have wished for a better outcome. Shiva is no longer a threat, and the heretics have been routed,” Aymeric continued. “Aye, there is the matter of Iceheart’s escape, but she cannot run forever. Whether it takes days, weeks, moons, or even years, my knights will find her,” he promised. “In the meantime – Lord Drillemont, is the caravan ready?”

“The supplies that your men recovered have been prepared for transport, in accordance with your wishes,” the Elezen commander of Whitebrim Front said. “Rest assured that my knights will see them safely to Revenant’s Toll.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Aymeric nodded.

“I take it these are the selfsame supplies the heretics stole from the House Fortemps caravan?” Alphinaud asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer.

“Less the crystals which comprised the bulk of the shipment, yes,” Aymeric replied. “Scarcely a fraction of that which was promised, but a meaningful contribution to your cause all the same. Ah, and on an unrelated note… T’lorna – might I trouble you to accompany me to Camp Dragonhead at your earliest convenience?” the Lord Commander of the Knights of Isghard asked hesitantly. “‘Tis not for my benefit,” he added. “A certain lord was most distressed when he learned of your intent to risk life and limb to stop Iceheart. It took half a dozen knights to restrain him, I am told.”

“Dammit, Haurchefant,” T’lorna grimaced. “That fool knows that I’ll be fine!”

“Men give bent to their anxieties in myriad ways. Pray do not think less of him,” Aymeric said softly. With that, the black-haired Elezen walked off to make his way to Camp Dragonhead. T’lorna followed him, riding in his wake through the ice and snow to the place where Haurchefant held his command. No sooner had she ducked into the doors of the main hall than the silver-haired, sapphire-eyed illegitimate son of House Fortemps started haranguing her.

“What were you thinking, T’lorna?” Haurchefant demanded. “Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which _might_ allow you to enter Iceheart’s lair – knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva anyway? And then – and _then_ – engaging the abomination in mortal combat!? By the Fury, T’lorna! ‘Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages! Would that I had been there to fight by your side!” T’lorna felt a pang. She could almost hear her husband whispering much the same. “Yet here I was forced to wait – _condemned_ to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable _eternity_! I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…” the Elezen sighed. “But you are here now, and that is what truly matters. Let us move on. Ser Aymeric wished to have word with you and Master Alphinaud in private. He awaits us in the intercessory.”

“Any chance you could throw in dinner with that meeting?” T’lorna asked, her belly rumbling with hunger.

“Aye,” Haurchefant laughed. “That much I can do for the Warrior of Light and her companion. Go, meet with Aymeric. I’ll be along shortly with enough food to keep you satisfied. That much I promise! And, should you ever need aid, I will be there to help you with all the might of House Fortemps.”

“I pray that such will never be needed, Haurchefant,” T’lorna sighed as she turned to head towards the intercessory. “But, should it be, I will be most grateful for your friendship and your assistance.”

“You have more than earned it, T’lorna. Go. Speak with Ser Aymeric. And know that you have friends in Ishgard should worse to come to worst,” the silver-haired Elezen chuckled.

T’lorna nodded and headed off to speak with the Lord Commander. Perhaps, one day, she would not need to worry about anything other than opening the Crystal Tower. Until then, however, she would take what she could and be thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading your comments. Let me know what you think! They make weeks like this one -- where I have been cussed out every day over classes I don't teach and students I don't have for test scores that I can't control (since, you know, I don't teach those students or those courses) -- bearable. And yes, I have thrown up several times this week just from stress. That's how I know how T'lorna would feel. :)


	13. The Flight to Ishgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, we have the entry into Ishgard and the sultana's fateful feast. Let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“These are your rooms here in my father’s house,” Haurchefant explained as he pushed open a door in the manor. “I hope you will find them comfortable enough. If there is anything we can do to make your stay here in Ishgard better, let me know.”

T’lorna nodded but said nothing. She was too tired to reply. The past two weeks had been beyond exhausting and all she wanted was to curl up in a bed and sleep. Alphinaud had already beaten her to the goal. The young Elezen boy was curled up in the bed, snoring softly.

“I owe you,” she muttered to Haurchefant.

“Let there be no talk of debts, my dear friend,” the Elezen chuckled. “You have had a difficult few weeks. But none here believes you guilty of regicide. Rest. Recuperate. Soon, we will be able to help you clear your name. Until then, enjoy the hospitality of my father’s house.”

T’lorna waited until the Elezen had closed the door behind him. She then sat at her desk and picked up a quill. So much had happened in the past fortnight. She needed to record it, to work it out in her mind, before she could sleep. She was not like Alphinaud who could simply collapse bonelessly in the sleep of the young.

 _Dearest Raha_ , she wrote.

_Things have been beyond insane since you went to your sleep. I have already told you about dealing with Iceheart and Shiva. No sooner had we dealt with those heretics than I found myself face-to-face with yet another Asican. Nabriales captured Minfilia and I was forced to lead Valhalla against him to rescue her. I still, for the life of me, cannot understand why she and Thancred refuse to admit their love for each other. Thancred was beside himself with worry over her and she was beside herself with worry over him._

_Gods be good. The two of them are a matched set._

_We lost Moenbryda in that attack. Urianger is heartbroken over it though he’ll never admit it. He still puts on the mask of being just a friend to her. But I saw his face when she died. He may pretend to be some strange prophet, but he has a heart._

_At any rate, once that was done, I found myself rescuing Tataru from her own inexperience. The Lalafell was determined to learn the arts of the arcanists though she has no talent for such magic. I wound up having to save her from the first trial of the Arcanist Guild. She’s most disappointed in her ‘failure’ and refuses to be comforted with the knowledge that only she could keep the Scions in coin and comfort. By Azeyma, my love, Tataru could run any business she wanted. Why she desires to prove herself in combat is beyond me._

_Speaking of combat – I was forced to face off against Midgardsormr. Though I overcame his challenge, he has locked the Blessing of Light within me so that I can no longer draw from the strength of the Crystals. So, I guess, in a way, I do understand why someone would want to be stronger than they are naturally. I’m still struggling to come to terms with it but I will carry on. I must. I have to prove myself useful to Ishgard else the House of Lords could very well send us back…_

_Which brings me to the real reason I’m writing this down. That godsdamned feast… Raha, I have lost you. I have lost everyone. Yda and Papalymo. Thancred and Minfilia. Even Y’shtola. Not to mention Moenbrdya. They’re all gone. Raubahn is probably dead. As is the sultana. And they think that I killed her._

T’lorna slid her chair back from the desk and flung the quill down. She stood up and walked over to the fireplace, her gaze abstracted as she held out her hands to warm them. Glancing over at the bed, she saw Alphinaud still sleeping soundly upon it.

The feast. It had been supposed to be a time for the Eorzean Alliance to discuss bringing Ishgard back into the fold. Instead, it had turned into a bloodbath. T’lorna had been absent for most of it – closeted with the sultana in a private dinner. Still, she could recall the events as if they had just happened. Squatting down in front of the flames, T’lorna remembered…

~*~*~*~

The sultana’s personal chambers were luxuriant. Soft rugs, wall hangings, and solid-gold ornamentation decorated every square ilm of the room. The sultana wore her crown and her customary regal garb that did little to make her look like a woman grown. T’lorna had knocked on the door and heard the soft, commanding tone bidding her enter the room. The Warrior of Light made her respectful bow to the sultana who smiled at her.

“Pray come in,” Nanamo said warmly as she waved away the guard who had escorted T’lorna in. “Take your ease.”

T’lorna took a seat at the small table that had been laid with rich food and wine. One of Nanamo’s ladies-in-waiting stood off to the side to serve the meal. T’lorna took note of the woman – a Hyur with soft brown hair and eyes who was dressed in expensive clothing. She wore an elaborate golden necklace but no rings or bracelets. Turning her attention to the table, the Miqo’te noted that the goblets were solid gold and encrusted with precious gems – emeralds and rubies, mostly.

“You may leave us,” Nanamo told her lady-in-waiting once the wine had been poured. She spoke with a gracious and regal air. T’lorna found herself envying the gravity with which the diminutive ruler of Ul’dah could speak.

“Your Grace,” the brown-haired Hyur nodded as she set the open wine bottle down and left the chambers. Nanamo waited until she and T’lorna were truly private before speaking.

“You must be curious as to the reason for this private audience,” the ruler of Ul’dah said. “The matter I would discuss, however, will soon make apparent the need for discretion.” T’lorna nodded stoically and smiled as best she could for the sultana. The Miqo’te cared little for politics and, with her heart half-sleeping in the Crystal Tower, she found it difficult to smile warmly as had been her wont before losing her husband. “I intend to abdicate the throne and dissolve the monarchy,” Nanamo said. T’lorna felt her eyes widen in shock. “You have seen for yourself the storm of turmoil that howls through our streets. The government fails in its responsibilities, and my subjects suffer the consequences of our incompetence.” Arguments about the Monetarists and the Royalists, about the corruption of the Syndicate and the check that the sultana provided against them rose to the tip of the Warrior of Light’s tongue. However, Nanamo continued to speak. “But I will see them suffer no longer. The victory feast shall provide the stage on which I will declare the dissolution of the sultanate.” Her emerald eyes shone with resolve. “‘Tis mine intent that the ruling class of our golden city should take its place beside the common man in a fair and equitable republic. No more shall this nation bow to the whims of a privileged few. Yet that which I propose will entail the tearing of this city’s very foundations. And even Raubahn with all his strength and influence will be hard-pressed to keep his footing on such treacherous ground. Thus would I ask you to lend him a steadying hand. You who have endured the wrath of innumerable foes are the one hero in whom I can place my trust. Will you do this thing for me?” she asked softly. T’lorna found herself nodding despite her disagreement with the sultana’s proposed policy. The Lalafell had a way about her that made it difficult to oppose her wishes. Her sincerity was clear and, if this was what she wanted, then the Warrior of Light could see no way to force her to continue to rule. The heart-wrenching smile Nanamo gave her made tears spring to T’lorna’s eyes. “I am truly grateful. More grateful than I can well express. Much of my dread for the coming days has been quieted.” With that, the soon-to-be former ruler took up her cup of wine and drank deeply. T’lorna started to mimic her, to toast to Nanamo’s health and future, but the way the sultana suddenly stopped drinking, dropping her cup and clutching at her throat, warned the Miqo’te.

The wine had been poisoned.

Nanamo’s cup fell to the carpeted floor with a ring that seemed to echo through the entire palace. T’lorna rose quickly, calling on her healing magic, and tried to cleanse the woman of the poison. However, whoever had designed this poison had accounted for such things for no spells would work to counter it. Nanamo gasped, her stubby fingers digging furrows into the skin of her throat as she struggled to breathe. The sultana collapsed from her chair, dead. Just then, the doors to her chambers opened and none other than Teledji Adeledji – and his guards – rushed in. The Lalafell man feigned shock, throwing his short arms up in the air, his blue eyes wide.

“Your Grace!” he gasped. The lady-in-waiting who had served at the table earlier stood in the background. T’lorna glared at her. Though the Miqo’te despised politics, she was no stranger to the concept of a set-up. “Her Grace…” Teledji Adeleji pretended to mourn, “The sultana is dead. Poison in her wine?” He cut his eyes to the Warrior of Light. “You! You did this!” T’lorna shook her head in denial though she knew it was useless. “Spare us your denials!” he shouted. “I see no other suspects, and the room has but the one entrance! I hereby accuse you of regicide! Men – arrest this viper!” he ordered. T’lorna made no move to oppose them. She knew better. Instead, she allowed them to escort her to the main room of the feast where she saw that the Crystal Braves had rounded up Alphinaud and the others in the main audience chamber.

“Knights from the homeland,” she heard Aymeric mutter. “This cannot bode well.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Raubahn demanded.

“Lord Commander,” Teledji Aledeji said, speaking first to Ser Aymeric. “We have received an urgent message from the Holy See. I am grieved to report that your serpentine foes have resumed their assault. Needless to say, your presence is urgently required. These knights have come to bear you swiftly home to Ishgard.

“A surprise attack?” Aymeric said skeptically.

“We’ve had no such word from our men. And the timing is most fortuitous to catch us away from the city…” Lucia, Aymeric’s most trusted guard, replied.

“Most fortuitous indeed,” Aymeric agreed.

“Lord Commander,” one of the knights insisted, “we must away!”

“You have been a most gracious host,” Aymeric said carefully, directing his words and his azure gaze to Teledji Adeleji. “I hope that I might one day return the favor. Come, Lucia.” With that, the Lord Commander of Ishgard and his knights left, leaving the Scions and T’lorna to the mercies of the Brass Blades and the Crystal Braves. Only Thancred was absent as the armed guards surrounded the rest of the Scions. The rest of the guests to the feast began edging to the sides of the chamber while Raubahn stepped up, glaring down at Teledji Aledeji.

“You go too far, Lord Aledeji,” he said loudly, his voice carrying through the chamber. “By what right do you march armed soldiers into a royal banquet and eject state visitors without Her Grace’s consent!? You treat the Brass Blades as your personal army, and show contempt for the throne with your every act. Leave us. Now,” the general of the Immortal Flames snarled.

“Is that an order, General?” Teledji Adeleji asked in his sarcastic tone. “Mayhap you have mistaken me for one of your Flames? You will find I am not so slavishly obedient. And you lecture _me_ on personal armies! As for your _outrageous_ claim that I have shown contempt for the throne, let all here observe that it was not _I_ who feasted while an assassin removed its occupant!” Around the room, T’lorna saw eyes widen in shock. “I expect this is your idea of defending the nation, is it?” Adeleji continued. “This and diluting our forces through these distractions in Carteneau and Coerthas! I do begin to see how the ranks of the Immortal Flames came to be riddled with Garlean sympathizers! You are plainly unfit for command!”

“Wait… wait, gods damn you!” Raubahn demanded. “Your words make no sense. What assassin?”

“You mean to say you don’t know!?” Adeleji gasped in feigned shock. It took all of her will-power for T’lorna not to roll her eyes. “We caught the vaunted champion of the Scions in Her Grace’s private chambers not moments after the deed was done!”

“No – No, this cannot be!” Minfilia shouted. T’lorna wished she could have told the Antecedent not to waste her breath. Murmurs and whispers quickly spread through the chamber as the court of public opinion tried and sentenced the Scions.

“Save your breath,” Adeleji snarled. “You will need it to plead your case. You and your entire order are to be tried for this atrocity. Bring in the prisoner!” he ordered. T’lorna, escorted roughly by Ilberd, was shoved from the antechamber where she had been held and thrown to the ground in the main audience chamber.

“This woman stands accused of poisoning Her Royal Majesty Nanamo Ul Namo,” the traitorous Crystal Brave announced. “And as suspected accessories to the crime, all members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn will be detained for questioning!”

“This is madness!” Minfilia shouted.

“What a pity,” Ilberd sighed. “Who’d have though your tale would end like this?” T’lorna glared at Ilberd. Before she could reply in like kind, Teledji Adeleji spoke up.

“Should you demand further proof, a vial with traces of the substance used to poison Her Grace was found upon the assassin’s person.”

“Hmph,” Y’shtola muttered. “How very convenient.”

“You would speak of convenience?” Lord Adeleji growled. “Who persuaded Her Grace to host this celebration? A diversion which presented you and your confederates ample opportunity to commit the crime, and a crowd within which to fade from view! A more ‘convenient’ occasion I could scarcely imagine!”

“How dare you!” Minfilia cried. “After all we have done for Ul’dah!”

“Hold your tongue, witch! I’ll not be ensorcelled! I know all about the dark gift that you and your disciples wield! Oh, yes… I’ve observed how you worked upon the minds of the Alliance leaders, bending them to your will!” Lord Adeleji shouted, rousing the chamber to his way of seeing. “And what of your _cordial_ relationship with Ser Aymeric? For years, Ishgard abjured all contact with the outside world, and now the lord commander of the Temple Knights treats you with the familiarity of a childhood friend?” he scoffed. “I’ll tell you what I think – I think this desperate defense of Ishgard was but a ruse to deceive us into dividing our forces. Your next move will be to charm your Coerthan allies into invading our lands!”

“Now that is truly ridiculous,” Papalymo snarled.

“How do you even think of this stuff!?” Yda shouted.

“She… she cannot be dead…” Raubahn gasped, still in shock from the news. He began to walk towards the entrance to the sultana’s chambers. Ilberd moved to stop him. “Stand aside, Ilberd,” Raubahn snarled. “I want to see the sultana!”

“Spare yourself the pain, brother. I saw her with my own eyes,” Ilberd replied. “For a mercy, the poison took her swiftly – her handmaiden can attest to that.”

“This cannot be…” Raubahn snarled in disbelief. He fell to his knees as he clutched his head in grief. “Nanamo!” he cried. “Nanamo… NOOOOO!!!” Raubahn pounded his fists against the floor in protestation as he screamed out his denials. T’lorna shuddered at the raw mourning pouring off the general of the Immortal Flames. She flinched as Teledji Adeleji walked up to the grief-stricken warrior, his silver tongue ready. Ilberd and the treacherous handmaiden departed as Lord Adeleji began to speak.

“Plainly, the Royalists can no longer be relied upon to keep our nation safe,” the leader of the Syndicate declaimed, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. “And so it falls to the Monetarists of the Syndicate to govern Ul’dah. But should you wish to help us, General, we would be more than happy to entrust the task of planning Her Grace’s funeral to you. It seems only right that you should bury your precious sultana, and we will be glad to be rid of that burden,” the Lalafell sneered.

Raubahn glanced up, his eyes wild, as he snarled at the leader of the Monetarist faction. “I’ll bet you will. You more than any man.” The leader of the Immortal Flames’ voice was deceptively calm. T’lorna found herself shrinking back from it.

“Whatever do you mean?” Adeleji asked.

“I mean you had her killed, you black-hearted bastard!” Raubahn shouted as he rose to his feet.

“Heh! What rot!” Adeleji laughed. “Though I did have sufficient motive, ‘tis true. That young lady caused me no end of grief. She always was a most unwilling puppet. I daresay Her Grace was grateful that someone thought to cut her strings,” he teased.

“You would mock her?” Raubahn growled as he reached for his blade, freeing it from the sheaths at his waist. “THEN MOCK HER FROM HELL!” His blades cut true, nearly slicing Teledji Adeleji in half. The Lalafell collapsed, his blood staining the carpets crimson. Screams and cries of denial filled the chamber as the banquet’s attendees began to flee. Raubahn stood, his blades in his hands, rich blood dripping from their blades. He glared at the corpse, his eyes still wild with grief.

“Have you lost your mind, General!?” Lolorito shouted from near the door. The Lalafell was careful to stay out of striking distance. “It is forbidden to draw steel in the royal chambers, much less slaughter our fellow Syndicate members! You’re one of them!” he cried as he gasped. “You’ve been in league with the Scions all along!”

“YOU!” Raubahn screamed. “You’re next, you scheming bastard!” From the way he glared, T’lorna could tell that the general was out of his mind with grief and could not tell friend from foe. She longed to warn the others of the danger but her throat was frozen shut with shock. Raubahn ran, his blades quick to strike at the Lalafell, but Ilberd blocked him. Moving swiftly, the Ala Mhigan struck, cutting Raubahn’s arm off and sending it flying in the distance. Blood sprayed, staining the carpets, the table, and those nearby. Raubahn cried out in pain – both physical and psychic – and fell to his knees once more.

“Raubahn!” Kan-E-Senna cried out.

“Seven hells!” Merlwyb screamed in shock.

“Admiral, we must leave,” one of her soldiers suggested. T’lorna watched as the leader of Limsa Lominsa snarled but let her men guide her out of the chamber. The rest of the banquet’s attendees followed, leaving Raubahn and the Scions to the mercies of the Crystal Braves and the Brass Blades.

“How unlike you, old friend,” Ilberd sneered. “I did not expect to take your arm so easily.”

“Take the Scions into custody,” Lolorito ordered, cutting off any further quips from the so-called leader of the Crystal Braves. “They have conspired to commit regicide! And arrest this traitor as well,” he added, glaring at Raubahn. T’lorna glared as the forces closed in around her. She could see no easy way out of this trap.

“Ilberd,” Raubahn snarled. “I hope you choke on their coin!”

“‘Tis better than the dirt I’ve supped on these long years,” Ilberd retorted easily. “We can’t all abandon Ala Mhigo and become great war heroes as you have. You are not the man you once were, Raubahn. Since that girl strapped the yoke around your neck, you’ve become docile,” he teased. “She took the mad bull and cut off his balls. And a bull that cannot rut is fit for naught but slaughter.” At this, Ilberd squatted down so he was face-to-face with Raubahn. “Shall I tell you who really killed your precious sultana?” he quipped. “It was me,” he laughed.

Raubahn reached for his fallen blade with his left hand. “You!” he screamed at Ilberd. “You’ll die!”

T’lorna watched as the two sons of Ala Mhigo squared off against each other. Their powerful blows nearly shattered the chamber. Finally, Y’shtola summoned a shield to keep the damage from killing the Scions. Raubahn cut the bonds holding her loose and she stood as he spoke.

“I never doubted you,” he told her. “Not for a moment. But there is more to this than I yet understand. Flee this place. Clear your names. Find out who is behind this plot! It is the only way! Now go!” he ordered. With that, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn fled.

 _Papalymo and Yda remained behind with the Chamber of Rule to hold off those who would have kept us from fleeing,_ T’lorna wrote. She had risen and returned to her desk. _Thancred returned, letting us know that the rest of the city was up in arms against us. Our own suggestions were turned against us. There was little for us to do but to flee through the secret passages beneath the city. We wound up in the sewers, built by the Sil’dihns. Oh, how you would have loved to see the architecture of the ancients, my dearest. Still the Crystal Braves and the Brass Blades pursued us. I am not certain exactly what Y’shtola did, but the great wind that struck in its wake allowed Alphinaud to escape. Y’shtola, Minfilia, and Thancred have not re-surfaced in the week since. Whatever the other Miqo’te did, it is not a spell with which I am familiar._

_I feel so alone, my heart. I have lost almost all of my friends. My list of allies grows thin. If it were not for Haurchefant, I would have had no safe haven to which to escape…_

Again, her gaze drew abstracted as he thought of that desperate bit for sanctuary. Hydaelyn had bid her leave Minfilia in the sewers. Though she had not wanted to, T’lorna obeyed the orders of the Antecedent, making out of the sewers and to Camp Dragonhead with Raubahn’s adopted son Pipin guiding her and Alphinaud to safety.

“…There has been word from the capital,” she remembered Haurchefant saying as she reported in to him. “Ishgard has weathered another assault, and ‘tis said several wyverns broke through into the city proper.” The horrible sights of Nanamo’s death and Raubahn’s price flashed before her eyes. “The Temple Knights succeeded in slaying the beasts,” the Elezen continued, “but the intrusion prompted orders to further strengthen the guard and to place the city under a perpetual state of alert. How keenly we feel the loss of our wards at the Gates of Judgement,” he sighed. “Yet we must not bemoan our misfortune. Ser Amyeric is safely returned from Ul’dah and once more leads the defense of Ishgard. As for the matter of your asylum,” he explained, “I am afraid no progress will be made until the threat to our nation has diminished.” Alphinaud sat off to the side, his head hanging. “But do not despair,” Haurchefant said brightly. “You are not without allies. You are more than welcome to shelter here for as long as you wish. Pray think of it as a new headquarters of sorts – the ‘Falling Snows’ or some such!” he laughed. T’lorna felt the burden on her shoulders grow somewhat lighter at that. Haurchefant was a true friend and his smile could brighten even the darkest of nights. “All frivolity aside,” he continued, “any who come here in search of you will receive no aid from House Fortemps. For once, the Ishgardian reputation for inhospitality shall work in our favor. Agents of Ul’dah will find their every inquiry dismissed, and their every request for entry rebuffed, until such time as their masters have acknowledged your innocence,” he promised. “You once fought to preserve the honor of my dear friend – ‘tis a blessing that I may now repay that debt in kind. But let us dwell no more on this. Pray join the rest of your companions. ‘Tis bitterly cold this day. I suspect there are those who might welcome the warmth your presence brings,” he grinned. T’lorna found herself smiling at the Elezen commander of Camp Dragonhead.

 _From there_ , she wrote in her journal, _we found ourselves journeying to Isghard with Lord Haurchefant as our most stalwart advocate. Even now, as we have been accepted as wards of House Fortemps, we find ourselves ever indebted to him. He has been a true friend, my love. Should you awake in an era where his descendants yet live, I would as you to grant them whatever they ask. For, by his friendship, we have been granted succor, warmth, food, and protection here in icy Ishgard…_

“T’lorna?” she heard her friend, the illegitimate son of House Fortemps, call out from the hallway. “Might I enter?”

“Come in,” she said graciously. The door to the room opened, admitting both the grey-haired Elezen and only a small draft. “I brought you some dinner. You must be cold and hungry.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“I see that your young friend has already sought the comfort of sleep in a warm bed,” Haurchefant laughed as his gaze fell upon Alphinaud. “Come. Eat. I will have the maidservants heat water for your bath and then, if you wish it, I will carry your young friend to his own chambers.”

“I do wish that,” she nodded as she began to eat. “Alphinaud is a fine young man but I would much prefer it if he kept to his own rooms instead of cluttering up mine. Gods know I have enough of my own clutter,” she added as she stared out over the various weapons and arms she had managed to salvage from the Rising Stones. “I don’t need him adding to it.”

“Indeed, you do not. You need not worry about maintaining your rooms, my friend. My father’s servants will be happy to take care of that for you.”

“I’d actually prefer to take care of it myself,” she sighed.

“I see.” Haurchefant then spied her journal and his face brightened as he walked over to the desk. “You are updating the story of your many heroic exploits?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she sighed. Lassitude seemed to strike her at the most inopportune times and suddenly all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a few moons.

“But this looks more like a letter,” he muttered as he read over what she had written. “Who is 'Raha'?”

“Raha is…” T’lorna’s eyes began to fill with tears. “He is someone very dear to me who is gone,” she said in a rush.

“I see,” the Elezen said carefully. “I will not press you for more than you wish to say. Here, come and enjoy your meal while it is hot. The servants will draw your bath and I will keep you company – and awake,” he added with a slight grin, “until you are safely tucked into your blankets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading your comments. Let me know what you think! Your comments help me get through each week. Hopefully, soon, I will be returning to IT and will no longer have to deal with getting screamed at over other teachers missing days or not getting test scores up high enough.


	14. The Flame General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And how it's time to take the action back to Raubahn.

Over the next few days, T’lorna began to feel the cost that came with the protection House Fortemps offered. She had been asked – not forced but _asked_ – to assist the two younger and legitimate sons of the House in their duties. Emmanellain had been merely annoying with his tendency to call her “old girl” and his rakish attitude while working in the Sea of Clouds. It had taken all of the Miqo’te’s considerable will-power not to belt the boy into the abyss.

Artoirel had managed to be almost as bad as his younger brother but infinitely more tolerable. The eldest legitimate son of Count Edmont de Fortemps took his duties and responsibilities seriously and saw T’lorna’s presence as a lack-of-trust in his own abilities. To some extent, the golden-haired Warrior of Light could sympathize with the youth. She did her best not to usurp his authority nor steal his thunder. However, as they traveled through the frigid wastes of the Coerthas Western Highlands, Artoirel soon found himself out-classed by the challenges that came when the Dravanian cultists struck one of the small outposts in the glacial highlands.

No sooner had they settled that particular headache – and Artoirel admitted that he had hoped to see T’lorna fail out of fear and jealousy – than they found themselves embroiled in Ishgardian politics.

“The hero returns!” Count Edmont said brightly as he stepped into the main room of his mansion to greet T’lorna. “I cannot thank you enough for saving young Emmanellain’s life. Aye, aye,” he nodded, “he told me everything. I’ve also received letters from both House Dzemael and Durendaire praising your conduct – and that of House Fortemps. You’ve won us much honor, my friend.”

“My lord!” the steward said as he rushed through the doors. Edmont and T’lorna turned to see what had the normally stalwart Elezen who ran the house so rattled.

“What is it? Speak,” the count demanded.

“Pray forgive the intrusion, my lord, but I bring grave tidings!” the steward stammered. “Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru have been detained on suspicion of fomenting heresy!”

“What? Explain!”

“They… they were observed entering a tavern in the lower leves on some half-dozen occasions. There, it is claimed, they made a number of inquiries… Inquiries which brought them into contact with certain… ahem… elements,” the steward said, his voice somewhat fearful. “‘Twas this which prompted a knight of the Heaven’s Ward to demand that they be questioned. Ser Grinnaux, my lord…”

“Ser Grinnaux is a brute – an exceedingly accomplished brute,” Edmont explained to T’lorna, “but a brute nonetheless. Alas, he is also a son of House Dzemael. How quickly we forget the petty nature of men,” he sighed. “I’d wager your friends are no more than pawns in another of my countrymen’s games. Such is the way of things between the High Houses… Though you have won the hearts and minds of many of my countrymen, there are those who will never be swayed,” the count said sadly. “Men who will dismiss your efforts and resent your successes, even as we celebrate them. ‘Tis like that one such member of House Dzemael is manipulating Ser Grinnaux, for he is not a man to dabble in politics of his own volition. He may genuinely believe your friends to be guilty, though I am quite certain his masters know better. Yet the truth will avail us naught if we cannot prove their innocence. You would do well to speak with Ser Aymeric at the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. He will know more of these charges.”

T’lorna nodded and sighed. It seemed she had more work to do yet to secure the remaining Scions in Ishgard.

~*~*~*~

A short time later, following a conversation with Aymeric and Haurchefant and a short battle against Ser Grinnaux, Alphinaud and Tataru were safe and the accusations against them had been dropped. The archbishop himself had personally apologized to T’lorna and had admitted to working with the Ascians.

T’lorna returned to the Fortemps Manor to let the others know what she had learned and to see if the Knights had dropped any clues that might mean further Asican involvement in their problems with the Crystal Braves, the Syndicate, and the missing Scions.

T’lorna recounted her meeting with the Archbishop to Alphinaud. Then Tataru dropped her bombshell.

“In the midst of all the excitement,” the Lalafell said quickly, “I completely forgot to tell you! When I was asking around about the Scions, I heard the most awful rumor! General Raubahn is to be executed for crimes against the sultanate!”

“If the Flame General dies, we will lose a staunch ally, and the one man capable of holding the sultana’s assassins to account,” Alphinaud replied. T’lorna glared at the Elezen. While she did not disagree with his conclusion, she felt it a bit cold to think of Raubahn only in terms that benefitted them. The Flame General was not just a staunch ally – he was _innocent_ of any crimes against the sultanate! “Lord Haurchefant was wise to counsel restraint, but this business will brook no delay. We cannot permit this execution to take place. We must save Raubahn!” T’lorna nodded in agreement. “Though the situation calls for urgency, it would avail us little to charge headlong into Ul’dah without a plan,” Alphinaud continued. “Before we can formulate a plan, however, we must first learn how things stand in the sultanate – which is why I propose we visit Limsa Lominsa. Aye, you heard me right,” he nodded grimly when T’lorna winced. “While you were about your altruistic endeavors, I acted as an intermediary in trade negotiations between House Fortemps and a Lominsan consortium. During said negotiations, an opportunity to send word to the Admiral presented itself, and I duly seized it. I am happy to report that we yet have a stout ally in Limsa. The Admiral has pledged her full cooperation in any effort to rescue Raubahn. Accordingly, I have agreed to meet with her, that we might discuss how best to proceed. Naturally, I told her to expect us both. Your presence never fails to embolden our allies, after all,” he said with a bright grin directed at T’lorna. The Miqo’te sighed and nodded. Though she was weary to the bone and wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and sleep for a few days, she could set her fatigue aside and do what must be done to save one who could yet be saved. “When you arrive in Limsa Lominsa, make yourself known to Sergeant Zanthael at Bulwark Hall on the lower decks. He will admit you to the Bridge.” T’lorna managed not to roll her eyes but it was a near thing. She knew how Alphinaud liked to make certain that everyone was ‘on the same page’ and, due to his youth, could and did often come across as condescending. As he walked off to make his own way to the seafaring city, T’lorna decided that she _would_ have a hot bath and a long nap before meeting him there.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna woke the next morning and groaned. She had not intended to sleep quite so long. Rushing through her morning routine, she found herself growing a little light-headed and nauseated. She forced herself to sit down and breathe through her nose until her stomach was settled before she willed herself through the aether currents to appear, moments later, just outside the Bulwark Hall in Limsa Lominsa. The nausea washed over her again at the smell of raw, rotting fish and it took all of her willpower to keep from vomiting. Once she was steady again, she nodded to the guard and then smiled as Alphinaud walked up.

“I waited for you last night,” the Elezen huffed. “What happened?”

“I fell asleep,” she admitted. “I’m here now. Let’s get the show on the road.”

Together, they took the lift up to the Admiral’s office. Merlwyb rose from her seat and greeted them with a broad grin.

“Friends. ‘Tis good to see you safe and well. I will admit, I had not counted on you seeking – let alone finding – refuge within the Holy See, but full glad was I to learn that you had.”

“Thankfully,” Alphinaud agreed, “we had allies there who took us under their wing. And theirs was not the only aid we received, I suspect. When we fled Ul’dah, we fully expected to become wanted men, known to all and hounded at every turn. Yet that did not come to pass. On the contrary, ‘twould seem the charges against us have not been made public. Might we have you to thank for that, Admiral?”

“Sharp as ever, Master Alphinaud. On Marshal Tarupin’s urging, the Elder Seedseer and I demanded that the Syndicate surpress news of the Scions’ alleged crimes until such a time as irrefutable evidence could be found. Our argument was simple: lacking proof, to accuse the saviors of the realm of so unlikely a crime would have the people up in arms. In their wisdom, the Syndicate agreed, as you yourself have seen. There is something you should know. Some few days prior to the banquet, the Elder Seedseer and I were summoned for a private audience with the sultana. There, she revealed her intent to announce her abdication, that she might pave the way for the establishment of an Ul’dahn republic.”

“What?” Alphinaud gasped. “But such an announcement would have plunged the entire nation into chaos!”

“She was well aware of that,” the Admiral agreed. “‘Twas for fear of what might ensue that she summoned us. Her Grace wanted the Elder Seedseer and I to lend Raubahn a helping hand, you see – to aid him in preserving the peace during the transition.”

“So…” the Elezen mused, “having somehow caught wind of her plan, Lolorito and Teledji plotted the sultana’s assassination in the hope of maintaining the constitutional status quo? But they must have known that her death would sow as much chaos as her abdication – chaos from which Teledji alone might feasibly stand to profit. Surely Lolorito would never knowingly… Ah. Could it be?” he said as a new thought struck him. “I dare not hope…”

“The Ul’dahn authorities have yet to announce the sultana’s passing,” Eynzahr, the Admiral’s most trusted assistant, said. “To allay any suspicion that may arise from Her Grace’s absence, they have issued a statement to the effect that she is presently convalescing from illness.”

“Mayhap they’re waiting for a fitting moment to break the news,” the Admiral said. “Or mayhap they know of some other reason to delay.”

“Something else has been bothering me, Admiral,” Alphinaud sighed. “I was dismayed to learn that General Raubahn is to be executed – yet upon hearing the news, I could not help but wonder why he had been kept alive for so long. Pray mistake not my meaning – I am, of course, overjoyed that our friend still draws breath, and that he might yet be saved. But if his enemies truly wished to eliminate him, they could have done so immediately. I see no reason for this delay.”

“Aye,” the leader of Limsa Lominsa agreed. “You’ve struck upon an important point, Master Alphinaud. “Following his capture, Raubahn had been held in the Marasaja Pit within Ul’dah. In recent days, however, he has reportedly been moved to an unknown location. Queerly, ‘twas not the Brass Blades who spirited him away, either, but a band of soldiers decked in blue…”

“The Crystal Braves,” Alphinaud spat the words as if they were a curse.

“Aye,” the Admiral nodded. “If I read the winds aright, the arrangement between Lord Lolorito and the Braves has come under strain. At any rate, if we’re to rescue Raubahn, we’ll have to find him first. And you’ll be glad to hear that I have already entrusted the task to those best able to see it done – our friends of Doma. Raubahn’s survival is vital to the Eorzean Alliance,” she continued. “We can ill afford to lose him. But I cannot send troops into Ul’dah. ‘Twould spell the end of the Alliance, and war, like as not. If there is to be a rescue, it falls to you and yours to attempt it.”

“I would not have it any other way, Admiral,” Alphinaud agreed with a nod. “It was I who founded the Crystal Braves, and I who must take responsibility for their actions.”

“Spoken like a true leader, Master Alphinaud. By way of a first step, you should seek out our Doman contact. You will find her among the frontier hands at Revenant’s Toll, working in a kitchen.”

“A good disguise,” T’lorna chuckled. “We’ll head there now. Thank you, Admiral.”

“Best of luck to you both,” the Roegadyn leader laughed.

With that, the two Scions left the Bulwark Hall and on to the next step of their mission to rescue the Flame General from his unjust captivity.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna managed not to gasp with weariness as they freed Raubahn from his prison. The Flame General was little the worse for wear considering his missing arm and the many privations that had come with his imprisonment. He was weak from sorrow, from rage, and from the poison with which the Crystal Braves had flooded the dungeon in a desperate bid to halt his prison break. Only the Blessing of Light weakly chained within her had kept T’lorna from succumbing to the poison gas and she could feel her body begging her to rest, pleading with her to just close her eyes and sleep for another few days.

“Why in the name of the Twelve am I so tired lately?” she wondered to herself as Yugiri and Alphinaud worked their healing magic on Raubahn. “In Coerthas, I can understand the fatigue that comes with being so cold. But here in the deserts of Thanalan? I normally thrive in such heat.” Unable to come up with an answer, she promised herself a trip to the healers if she did not start to feel better soon and turned her attention to the scene playing out in front of her.

“My… thanks…” Raubahn coughed. His normally snow-white tunic was still stained with blood from the attack weeks ago and now bore a liberal coating of dust, dirt, grime, and sweat-stains. His normally dusky skin was pale and his face taut with strain. He had lost weight during his imprisonment and was thinner, weaker, than he had been the night he’d lost his arm.

“Slowly, General,” Alphinaud cautioned. “You are yet weak from your ordeal.”

“Nevertheless,” Yugiri muttered, “we _must_ quit this place.” T’lorna agreed with her and moved to help Raubahn to his feet. The sooner they were away, the better.

“I should have known,” she heard Ilberd’s foul voice call from the other side of the arena. “What are clever contrivances to the Warrior of Light? Well done, hero,” he sneered.

“ _Ilberd_ ,” Alphinaud snarled.

“You mean to struggle on, then?” the Crystal Brave taunted. “Very well. If you would stand in my way, I will cut you down like all the rest. Come, Scions – let’s get this over with.”

Drawing on her remaining strength, T’lorna launched herself at the attackers. She focused on the Lalafell conjurer first, taking him and his healing abilities out of the fight while Yugiri turned her attentions to Golden Eye Yuyuhase and Alphinaud threw everything he had at Ilberd. The archer was the next to fall to T’lorna’s spells, allowing her to turn her attention to Laurentius, working with Alphinaud and Yugiri to bring him down so they could let loose everything they had on Ilberd.

The false leader of the Crystal Braves was a difficult opponent. By the time he was finally forced to quit the fight, T’lorna was beyond exhausted. Only sheer will-power and the Blessing of Light kept her on her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her and she gasped for breath.

“This changes nothing,” Ilberd growled.

“It is over, Ilberd!” Alphinaud shouted. “Lay down your arms and surrender yourself to justice!”

“Justice!? Justice for what exactly? ‘Twas not I who assassinated the sultana, boy!”

“Ere we debate who is responsible for the assassination, I would ask whether an assassination took place at all,” the Elezen retorted.

“Clever little shite…” Ilberd muttered angrily. “If you think you fight for justice, lass,” he said, glaring at T’lorna, “you’d best wake up. The truth is, you fight for whoever bloody well tells you to. Can you not see you’re being used!? By the Scions, the city-states, even the Crystal Braves. They none of ‘em care a whit what you want – only what you can do for them. And how do I know this? Because I’m the same – a pawn to be used as my masters see fit. All I ever wanted was to liberate my homeland, and I ate dirt to make it happen. But what have I achieved all these years in servitude? Nothing! Not a bloody thing. If we ourselves are not free – free to think and to act – how are we ever to reclaim our homeland? Know this: there is nothing I would not give to take back Ala Mhigo! NOTHING!” he shouted as he pointed his blade at the still-kneeling Raubahn. He then sheathed his blade, threw down a flash grenade and, by the time the three Scions could see again, Ilberd and his followers were running fast for the exit.

“You’ll not get away!” Alphinaud swore as he took off chasing after them. Yugiri blocked him, halting him before he could get out of the arena.

“No, Master Alphinaud. Now is not the time.” T’lorna muttered her agreement and turned her attention back to Raubahn. They had to heal him enough to get him out of this dank prison.

“I’m but a cripple,” Raubahn said, his voice gravelly and rusty, “and a fool, and still you came for me. I’m in your debt.”

“We are all of us fools of fate, General. But even fools have a part to play.”

“We stand with you,” T’lorna promised.

“Rest assured, I was not planning to die till I’d avenged the sultana. Still, your words are welcome, lass,” Raubahn replied. “Know this, Ilberd,” he vowed to the air where once his former friend had stood. “There is nothing I would not give to see you pay for what you’ve done. My wealth, my arm, my life… nothing.”

“General,” Alphinaud said quickly before Raubahn could get himself worked up, “are you aware that Lord Lolorito has yet to announce the sultana’s death to the public?”

“What?” Raubahn said in surprise. “No, no. I was not aware of that – nor of anything else outside my cell. ‘Tis passing strange, though… I assumed the bastard would make it known at the first opportunity and set about tearing down the sultanate.”

“As did we all,” Alphinaud agreed. “And it is indeed strange that he did not – strange or perhaps revealing? Now, I have no conclusive proof, nor do I wish to give you false hope… but I have reason to believe that Her Grace may yet live.”

“What? But how can that be?”

“Forgive me, friends,” Yugiri interjected, “but it is not safe here. Let us continue this conversation without.”

With that, they finally made their way out of the dungeon and into the warmth of the desert.

~*~*~*~

Following another meeting, this time in the Waking Sands with Urianger and an Ul’dahn prioress who knew the details of the godsforsaken banquet, T’lorna longed to return to Ishgard and to her very comfortable bed. Her eyelids felt as if they had leaden weights attached to them and her stomach growled angrily even though she had been munching on iron rations all day. No sooner had she teleported back to the city and came to stand in front of House Fortemps manor than she spied Tataru waiting for her.

“Ah, there you are,” the Lalafell said. “Sorry for cutting your reunion with General Raubahn short. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but the city’s awash with rumors of another Dravinian attack, and Lord Haurchefant was desperate to get hold of you. Speaking of whom, he and the others are waiting for you inside, so you’d better head in!”

Sighing, T’lorna forced herself to go into the manor and prayed that she might have time for a short nap before she found herself in yet another battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Let me know what you think!


	15. Parley With the Dravanians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now our heroes draw closer to the truth of the Dragonsong War...

T’lorna was glad that the Dravanian threat was not so pressing that she was forced to forgo a meal, a long soak in the tub, and a full night’s sleep. The next day saw her speaking with Estinien, Ser Aymeric, and then traipsing through the snowy plains of the Coerthas Highlands in search of Iceheart. The plan she, Alphinaud, and Estinien had come up with involved asking Iceheart to hold off her attack by offering vague promises that she and her heretics would not be pursued just yet. It was a stall, at best, but one which the Warrior of Light hoped would work long enough for both sides to sit own and come to some kind of lasting agreement.

Which was how she found herself carrying a small load of freshly slaughtered yak hides to a snow-covered crag in hopes of using the violet smoke to flush out Iceheart.

“Ah, I should have known it would be you,” Iceheart said as she walked up to the trio standing around the smoking campfire. “Word reached me of a struggle with a small but well-armed band of trespassers. Forgive my comrades their hostility – few come here uninvited and fewer still with good intent,” she added. “Now, tell me why you are here.”

“We wish to stop Nidhogg’s attack on Ishgard,” T’lorna said simply.

“So, you seek to stem the Dravanian tide with talk? A romantic notion,” Iceheart laughed. “If you but knew the truth – the spark which lit the flames of this animosity – you would understand the futility of your quest.” She closed her grey eyes sadly and seemed lost in thought for a long moment before she spoke again. “Shall I relate it to you? The sordid history my gift has shown me? That which the Holy See has taken such pains to suppress?” T’lorna and Alphinaud both nodded but Estinien snorted in derision. Iceheart ignored the Elezen dragoon and launched into her tale. “‘Twas more than a millennium past when an Elezen tribe first sought to claim the lands of Coerthas as its home,” she began. T’lorna could almost see the vivid images in her mind; an ancient land with great stone structures and flowering gardens. A land of immortal dragons. “Unfortunately for them, Coerthas was already home to dragonkind, and they were not inclined to make way for the invaders. Thus did a bloody war begin – a war which might well have rumbled on until one or the other side was exterminated, had it not been for the resolve of a single woman. That woman’s name was ‘Shiva.’ While those around her fought and died, she attempted to parley with the dragons, and in so doing discovered them to be possessed of profound intelligence and reason. The great wyrm Hraesvelgr in particular so enchanted Shiva that she found herself growing to love the creature, whom her people considered a monster. In the eyes of a near-immortal dragon, however, the fleeting life of an Elezen is as that of a freshly cut rose – scarce has the flower bloomed before it begins to fade and wither.”

T’lorna found herself growing teary-eyed at the tragedy she sensed coming. She herself knew what it was to love someone who could never be a part of her life for long. Wistfully, she found her gaze turning towards Mor Dhona where the Crystal Tower soared over the landscape.

“Such melancholy musings plagued Hraesvelger, who had found in Shiva an unexpected and beloved soulmate,” Iceheart continued. “He knew that all too soon, death would snatch her away from him. Unable to bear the thought of their separation, the maid bid the wyrm consume her, that their spirits might be entwined for eternity. Though loathe to perform the deed, Hraesvelgr ultimately gave in to her plea, and soon thereafter, the tale of their ill-fated love spread throughout the two warring factions. No more could they raise blade or claw against one another, knowing that the souls of their kin were so inextricably bound. In the days that followed, man and dragon learned to live in harmoy, and together built a nation unlike any the world had ever known. For two hundred years did this blissful age of peace continue, as it would to this day, had vilest envy not stirred in the hearts of the Elezen,” Iceheart growled. “It is said that wyrms owe their longevity to the boundless reserves of vitality found within their eyes – and ‘twas in this belief that a traitorous band of knights deceived their allies of some two centuries, and took by force that which they coveted. Nidhogg – he who now stands poised to unleash his wyrmlings upon Ishgard – was the great dragon who lost an eye to Elezen treachery. And until he prises it from the hands of the traitors’ progeny, no amount of conciliatory words will stay his fury,” she explained.

“You are wrong, Lady Iceheart,” Estinien said coolly. “Lest you misunderstand, I do not doubt your vision of the past – ‘tis true that Nidhogg greatly desired to reclaim the Eye. Indeed, it was for that very reason that I kept it with me as I roamed the land, attempting to draw him away from the city.” With a flourish, Estinien produced the eye. T’lorna could sense its vast power emanating from it. It was almost enough to make her feel warm in the gently falling snow.

“Good gods,” Alphinaud hissed.

“Until recently, Nidhogg seemed unable to resist its allure, and pursued me relentlessly. Needless to say, that is no longer the case,” Estinien continued, still holding the Eye aloft. “Now, it would seem he has fixed his attention on Ishgard itself, though he knows full well the Eye does not reside there.”

“You believe he targets the capital for another reason?” Iceheart asked.

“I believe reason has all but left him,” Estinien explained. “Through the Eye, I feel much of what Nidhogg feels, and the dragon’s thirst for vengeance will not be quenched by aught less than a sea of blood.” With that, the Elezen dragoon put the Eye away.

“If Nidhogg is indeed lost to reason,” Alphinaud said in the tone he used when thinking out loud, “might we not seek an audience with Hraesvelgr instead? He has thus far shown no inclination to aid in the invasion of Ishgard, and may yet welcome our efforts to broker a peace.”

“You _still_ believe that a peaceable solution can be found?” Iceheart laughed mirthlessly. “Very well. I will take you to him. Our road will lead us to Dravania, the homeland of dragonkind. There we shall ascend unto the clouds, where Hraesvelgr resides.”

Before T’lorna could ask a question, she felt a sudden sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. Clutching at her heart, she closed her eyes and saw a vision of herself in a void surrounded by the six Crystals of Light she held. They were grey and lifeless, bound by Midgardsomr’s magic. But one began to shine, throbbing and pulsing in time to the pain in her chest. She felt her connection with it flare and return to what it had once been. She managed to open her eyes and stand up from her hunched over position. Estinien and Iceheart were walking off while Alphinaud waited for her to regain her senses.

“Is aught amiss, my friend?” he asked. T’lorna nodded and then was bowled over by a sudden wave of nausea. She fell to her knees and emptied her stomach on the clean snow. “I sense the many battles are beginning to take their toll,” Alphinaud sighed as he squatted down next to her. She threw handfuls of snow over her sick-up to block the smell and nodded softly. “Rest awhile,” he suggested. “And should you lose sight of us – Dravania lies beyond the mountains to the west.”

~*~*~*~

A trek of a few hours saw T’lorna catch up with the others and the quartet make their way out of the snowy, frigid wastes of the Coerthas Highlands and into the warmer, heavily forested area of Dravania. T’lorna sighed in relief at the warmth in the air as they crossed into the forest. She had been beginning to wonder if her ears would freeze off.

Ahead of her Iceheart – who had asked to be called Ysayle – and Estinien walked in tandem and seemed to be engaged in sniping disguised as desultory conversation. Alphinaud trailed behind the elder Elezen like a lost puppy. T’lorna tuned out their bickering and basked in the sunlight and warmth, doing her best to avoid the shade for now.

A stop off to speak with an associate of Ysayle’s in Tailfeather set them on the path to Anyx Trine with a warning that the Gnath living in Loth ast Vath were up to something. There were several encounters on the road but the four made it to the dragon shrine easily. Once there, Ysayle cautioned Estinien to hold his temper and keep his harpoon strapped to his back. As she walked up the ramp to the shattered remnants of what must have been a once-great tower, a large white dragon landed before her.

“Vidofnir!” she greeted the beast.

“Ah, ‘tis thee, Little One,” the creature said warmly. “From above, I did mistake thee for a Gnath. ‘Tis well I chanced to look again, or thou wouldst now be ash.”

“Dear Vidofnir… how I have missed you,” Ysayle said with true warmth. “Would that I had come sooner… and not out of dire necessity.”

“Thou art troubled. Speak, that I might know thy plight.” Ysayle drew a deep breath and poured out the story to the dragon. She spoke of the pending attack on Ishgard and the Ishgardians’ wish to end the war. Vidofnir listened patiently before speaking again. “Thou wouldst have Father admonish his brood-brother?” she asked.

“I would end this war without further bloodshed,” Ysayle agreed.

“How am I to believe thee, Little One… when thine own companion beareth Nidhogg’s stolen eye!?” With that, Vidofnir roared angrily at Estinien. The Elezen dragoon took it in stride and walked up to the dragon with no hint of fear.

“Have care, dragon,” he warned without drawing his weapon, “or I shall gouge out one of yours.”

“You forget yourself, ser!” Ysayle snarled. “We are here on a mission of peace!”

“My sire’s will forbiddeth me from inviting discord to our home,” Vidofnir muttered. “‘Tis for this reason, and no other, that thou still drawest breath, knight.”

“Vidofnir, please,” Ysayle begged, “we must be allowed to convey our intentions to Hraesvelgr in person, with words of our own choosing. Grant us this favor, and open the way to Sohm Al!”

“Thou hast ever been welcome, Little One,” Vidofnir sighed. “But I cannot grant thy wish. I am bound to remain here, and protect my kin from the Gnath’s god.”

“The Gnath have summoned a primal!?” Ysayle asked. Alphinaud glanced at T’lorna and the two nodded in understanding. The young Elezen approached the great dragon calmly and spoke up.

“Pray excuse my forwardness, but if we were to eliminate the threat to your territory, would you consent to Lady Ysayle’s request?” he asked.

“Ha!” Vidofnir laughed. “Dost thou imagine thyself equal to the task – to succeed where dragons have failed? ‘Tis beyond thee, mortal. But thou art welcome to try, nonetheless. Only know that idle promises shall avail thee naught!” With that, Vidofnir took to the skies once more, leaving the four mortals to speak amongst themselves.

“It would seem we have no choice but to make good on Alphinaud’s offer,” Ysayle sighed. “Why must our every bid for peace breed yet more war? So, the Gnath have summoned their god… And thus is the mystery of their newfound belligerence laid to rest.”

“Are you not glad, Lady Iceheart?” Estinien taunted. “I thought you would applaud them for summoning a primal to further their own ends. After all, _you did_.”

“I did _not_ reach out to Saint Shiva to further mine own ends!” Ysayle protested angrily. “I desired her strength only to forge anew the peace between man and dragon! But what a fool I am to speak of peace to you – a bloodthirsty _savage_ who murders without thought or compunction!”

“Enough!” Alphinaud shouted. “Enough, I say! If the Gnath have truly brought forth their deity from the aether, we must face it together or watch our hopes fall apart! All now rests upon this primal’s defeat. But ere we think of confronting it, we must first study its origins. What is the nature of this god? What manner of faith sustains its existence?”

“My apologies,” Ysayle said softly. “You are right, of course. Let us return to Tailfeather and consult with Marcechamp – he knows more of the Gnath and their culture than most.”

With that, the four closed their eyes and willed themselves through the aether back to Tailfeather.

~*~*~*~

A day and a half later – following a meeting with Marcechamp, a discussion with the non-violent Gnath tribe of the Vath, and a harebrained plan to create a huge ruckus – T’lorna found herself standing outside of the Gnath stronghold where Ravana lurked. She, Ysayle, Alphinaud, and Estinien had created enough chaos to ensure that they would be captured and taken to stand before the Gnath’s god.

“That should be sufficient,” Ysayle said as she approached the rendezvous point where T’lorna waited for her. “If we did not have our hosts’ full attention before, we must surely have it now. Our audience with the primal may be granted soon after our capture. Pray advise me once you have steeled your mind for the battle to come.” T’lorna nodded. She was more than ready to have this over with. Though she’d gotten a full night’s rest, she still felt tired. Within moments, the Gnath surrounded the two women, demanding that they surrender. T’lorna and Ysayle put away their weapons. “Enough!” Ysayle said loudly to be heard over the din of the Gnath. “We surrender! We throw ourselves upon the mercy of your god!”

The Gnath escorted the two women into their compound and through it to a series of caves that wound deep into the mountain. In a large chamber, they halted and Ysayle glanced at T’lorna. Nearby Alphinaud and Estinien waited surrounded by their own ring of Gnath escorts.

“They seem eager to proceed,” Ysayle muttered, pitching her voice so that only T’lorna could hear her. “Good. When they take us before their lord, pray leave matters to me. If what I know of summoning holds true, I shall be well placed to act.” The Gnath continued to guide them through a pair of wooden doors into a final chamber where vast quantities of crystal lay strewn about the room. “Now we have but to wait,” Ysayle sighed.

The Gnath took up position in a wedge around their captives and assumed a stance of prayer. “O Lord Ravana!” the leader said loudly, “Master of the Sacred Blades! Wrath of the Colony! Conqueror of the World! Hear our prayer! Pray grant unto Your devoted children the gift of Your divine presence!”

“He comes!” Ysayle shouted in warning. An insectoid creature with four arms, each wielding a wicked blade, standing several fulms taller than the tallest Roegadyn T’lorna had ever seen, appeared in a swirl of flame in the midst of the chamber. The creature, Ravana, had insect-like wings sprouting from its back and its body was covered with armor-like chitlin. All in all, it was an impressive primal but she had felled others of its kind. The Warrior of Light felt no awe before it. Checking to make certain that Alphinaud and Estinien were far enough back not to be immediately tempered, T’lorna prepared herself for the fight to come.

“All strength to the colony,” Ravana said. “Speak and I shall listen!”

“O Glorious General! We have found intruders, and would make unto You an offering of their life’s blood,” the Gnath leader said.

“These feeble fleshlings dared to invade Gnath lands?” Ravana asked, aghast.

“Hear me, Lord Ravana!” Ysayle said in a carrying tone. “My companion and I did not come to contest your children’s territory. We wished only to learn the reason you wage war against the dragons.”

“Thou wouldst flirt with death merely to satisfy thy curiosity? Wherefore should the glorious conquests of the Gnath concern thee so, Elezen? Ah, mayhap thine own kind’s struggle against the wyrms fareth poorly, and thou art desirous of a pact,” Ravana mused.

Ysayle shook her head. “We crave no alliance, Lord Ravana – only peace. We would bring an end to our war with the dragons. Yet so long as they remain embroiled in this conflict with your children, our goal shall remain out of reach. Never before have the Gnath risen up in such numbers, and never yet with you at their head. Why do you lead them to war?”

“Thy question hath no meaning. To live is but to fight,” the primal explained as if he were talking to a small child. “Long have my children waited, gathering their strength in the shadow of thy ceaseless conflict. The Gnath would see the Dravanians slain, and their territory secured – and by such fervent prayers am I now given form and purpose.”

“As I feared, your very existence is an obstacle to our goal. Since you are so fond of fighting, we challenge you, Lord of the Gnath!” Ysayle shouted boldly. “And should we emerge the victors, I would have you swear to withdraw your soldiers from Dravanian soil!”

Ravana threw its head back and roared with laughter. “Thou art bold indeed to risk thy fleshy hide so readily! Very well. I, Ravana, fourfold master of the blade, do accept thy challenge! But should _I_ emerge the victor, I would have thee swear to serve in mine army till thy last breath is spent! Do you accept?”

“I do!” Ysayle said as she walked forward to stand before the primal. “And I believe the first bout is mine!” She drew on the aether in the crystals and willed herself to transform into Shiva, emerging from her icy cocoon as the goddess herself.

“What is this!?” Ravana shouted. “A god clad in flesh!?”

“Is aught amiss, my lord? Thou wilt not break thy word, I trust,” Shiva teased.

“Mine oath is unbending as steel, little goddess! Thy ruse will but add to mine enjoyment!”

With that, the fight was joined. Shiva hurled spears of ice at Ravana while T’lorna wove her own conjurer’s spells and hurled them at the creature. Alphinaud called forth his carbuncle and set it to attacking as he switched between hexing the primal and healing the others. Estinien, his harpoon whirling and at the ready, dove in, adding his strength to the others and cutting at the primal as Shiva used her magic to freeze Ravana in place or to hold his attention with shards of ice flying at him from all directions.

Finally, however, Ravana impaled Shiva with one of his blades. She breathed on the creature, covering it with solid ice which she shattered, bringing it down as she herself fell. “I thought myself stronger…” she muttered. “Mayhap with more crystals?”

Ravana collapsed to its knees as T’lorna continued to slam it with her spells, finishing the primal off. Shiva, transforming back into Ysayle, sailed across the room and landed in a huddle.

“Thus doth the sacred rite of combat proclaim the victor…” Ravana hissed as it began to collapse and dissipate. “I lay my blades at thy feet, child of man.” Then the creature vanished back into the aether from whence it had been summoned.

The Gnath scattered as Alphinaud and Estinien tended to Ysayle and helped her back to her feet.

“You do not disappoint, Warrior of Light,” Ysayle said warmly. “Would that I had your skill in battle. I do begin to see why so many place their faith in you. For all his savagery, I do not think Ravana one to break his word. Provided the dragons do not trespass upon Gnath lands, they should have little to fear of the primal’s biting blades. We have done well, have we not? Come, let us return to Vidofnir and share these glad tidings.”

~*~*~*~

“Dearest Raha,” T’lorna wrote in her journal as she sat in the late afternoon sun atop the Sea of Clouds. “The days continue to get stranger and stranger. Yesterday, I helped bring down yet another primal. This one was the Gnath’s god, Ravana. Following that, my companions – Alphinaud, Ysayle, and Estinien – and I were able to get passage through Sohm Al to the Churning Mists. We had to fight our way through Sohm Al, of course – nothing can ever be simple and straightforward when I am involved – but it was worth it. I regained access to another of my crystals. Midgardsomr’s sealing is weakening. I hope that soon I will have my full powers back.

“But enough about that. Raha, this place is beautiful. I pray that it is still here when you awaken. If it is, I would beg you to make the journey to see it. We are high up in the Dravanian mountains, up above the clouds themselves. The sun shines so brightly here. For all that we are so high, the weather is warm and welcoming; a nice change from the snowy hell of Coerthas! Also, the moogles are adorable. I know that they are powerful spiritual beings but I still just want to hug them.

I want to hug you. Gods, Raha. I miss you. I miss you so much that I find myself getting sick in the mornings. There are days that all I want to do is sleep until you wake me up in that distant future you’ve entrusted me to build.

At any rate, Ysayle and Estinien have been bickering a little less of late. The two of them are like oil and water; they might occupy the same space but they’ll never mix. Alphinaud tries to mediate their disputes but I’ve come to realize that the pair of them must simply work their differences out on their own terms. I hope they’ll stop sniping at each other soon, though. The constant low-level war of petty insults is getting on my nerves.

“Concerning the moogles: Kann-E-Senna came to help us establish relations with them and to help us get them to let us pass through their territory. Without the Elder Seedseer’s help, we would never have made it this far.

“At the moment, we are camping out near the base of the building where we will call Hraesvelgr when the wind changes so that the sound from the bugle the moogles gave us will carry up to the dragon. Full dark is going to fall soon so I will leave off for now and tell you of events later.

“I love you, Raha. Remember that whenever you read this.”

T’lorna wiped the nub of her pen off and tucked it and her journal away into her satchel. She glanced over at the cheery campfire that Alphinaud and Estinien had built and smiled. The young Elezen was coming far from his rich, scholarly ways under the tutelage of the rough-cut dragoon knight. She suspected that they would make an adventurer of the boy yet.

“Ah,” Alphinaud sighed contentedly. “Few things compare to the simple pleasure of sitting beside a crackling campfire of one’s own making.”

“Hah! So speaks the ‘great explorer,’” Estinien laughed. “Until recently, you wouldn’t have recognized firewood if it came with kindling and a flint.”

“‘Tis well you instructed me so patiently, then! But yes, left to my own devices, I would have been compelled to signal to Ysayle with a pile of damp leaves,” Alphinaud admitted. “I was born the pampered son of a Sharlayan dignitary, and, alongside my twin, became the youngest student ever to be accepted into the Studium. How proud I was to match wits with scholars and philosophers… How ignorant of mine own shortcomings… That hubris invited manipulate and betrayal… and led to the downfall of the Scions,” he sighed.

“We all of us are guilty of similar ignorance,” Ysayle replied. “How many men lay down their lives, never knowing what it is that they fight for? Never questioning that which they have been taught to believe? ‘Twas only upon meeting Hraesvelger that I learned the truth hidden within our history. Were it not for that chance encounter, I would never have vowed to tear down the Holy See, and expunge the falsehoods with which it fans the flames of conflict. I would have lived and died in ignorance. That the truth has driven me to do terrible things, I cannot deny, but I would rather sin in the pursuit of peace than imagine myself virtuous for perpetuating a needless war.”

“If this journey has taught me anything, it is the importance – and difficulty – of bolding to one’s convictions in the face of failure…” Alphinaud sighed. “Of striving always to replace one’s ignorance with knowledge.”

“You are well on your way, Master Alphinaud,” Estinien said calmly. “At your age, I was but a fool swinging a spear, with scarcely a thought in my head. Even now, I struggle to acknowledge the misconceptions under which I have labored. Sitting here, amongst these grand ruins, how can I deny that man and dragon once lived in peace? But for all that such an age existed, we are now in a time of war. Nidhogg killed my family, and no quirk of history will exonerate him. I may be ignorant of how the Dragonsong War began, but if we do not put an end to this conflict now, I can say for a certainty that it will only breed more vengeful souls such as mine.” The dragoon knight threw another long onto the fire and sighed sadly. “In my hands resides the power to vanquish a great wyrm. If Ishgard’s survival rest on me wield that power, I will slay Nidhogg myself… order or no.”

“Estinien,” Ysayle groaned. “You gave your word,” she reminded him.

“My word is contingent upon the success of our parley. Show me the strength of your convictions, Lady Iceheart. Convince Hraesvelgr of the righteousness of your cause.”

“Doubt not but that I shall, dragoon,” Ysayle replied.

“Well, winds willing,” Alphinaud said into the sudden silence, “we shall have our answers on the morrow. Let us sleep now, and face our fate with the rising of the sun.”

T’lorna nodded and crawled back into the tent she’d brought with her. She was beyond tired and craved nothing so much as sleep. Piling the extra blankets at her back, she snuggled into them as she doffed her armor, pretending that her husband was nestled in behind her, his warmth at her back, so that she could sleep and get enough rest to face down an immortal dragon come dawn.

~*~*~*~

Panting from the climb to the top of the shattered temple, T’lorna wondered if she were growing ill. That would explain the exhaustion she’d struggled against the past few weeks as well as the nausea she found herself dealing with in the morning. Her breasts had begun to bother her as well – more so than they normally did before her monthly bleeding came. Of course, it could just be the stress from everything hitting her at once. Losing a husband was never easy on anyone. Add in everything else she had gone through over the past two moons and it was little wonder if she was under the weather.

Putting the thoughts aside as she caught her breath, she plucked the bugle the moogles had given her from her satchel and let loose one crystal clear clarion note. Within moments a shadow blotted out the morning sun and a great dragon – the largest dragon she had ever seen in her life – landed before the group with a ground-shaking thump.

“Mortals,” Hraesvelgr hissed. “Why do you disturb my solitude?” He roared and glared out over them with a single eye. The other socket was dark and empty.

“Hraesvelgr,” Alphinaud breathed in awe at the sight.

“Thou speakest the name of a creature that but awaiteth the release of oblivion,” the dragon growled. “Leave me.”

“By the Twelve,” Alphinaud muttered as he clutched his head. “Mine ears hear the tongue of dragons, yet the meaning rings clear within my mind. How can that be?”

T’lorna shrugged. The Echo granted her the ability to understand all languages. She noticed nothing different when listening to Hraesvelgr beyond the puissance that flowed from him.

“Hraesvelgr, do you not remember me?” Ysayle asked as she approached the mighty creature. “‘Twas I whom you found in Dravania – I who glimpsed the truth. The truth about your past, about Shiva…”

Hraesvelgr reared up on his hind legs and bellowed in rage. “Do not speak her name, mortal!”

“But speak it I must!” Ysayle protested. “I have summoned Shiva’s soul from the beyond, and offered myself as her vessel! She has made her heart known to me!”

“Foolish girl,” the dragon snarled. “Thinkest thou my beloved’s spirit hath descended from the heavens!? That the secrets of her heart are thine to know!?”

“I have surrendered mine to her! Do you not see, my love? I am Shiva reborn!” Ysayle pleaded, her voice and her eyes filled with sorrow.

“Gullible fool,” Hraesvelgr replied. “The Light but illuminated the past for thee, it did not grant thee omniscience. The spirit thou hast summoned belongeth not to Shiva – ‘tis but a shade conjured by thine own fancy. In an age long past, mine own kin were guilty of like folly. Beguiled by the dark ones’ lies, they attempted to resurrect a king amongst wyrms – yet the divinity they called forth merely borrowed the semblance of my fallen brood-brother. Such gods are not summoned, but created. Phantoms spun from the threads of misplaced faith.”

“Then the spirit that answered me…” Ysayle whispered.

“Was but thy dream of Shiva,” Hraesvelgr finished for her. “Thy soul hath been corrupted by a deity of thine own making, child.”

Ysayle gasped and fell to her knees, overcome. T’lorna started to go to her but Alphinaud spoke up into the silence.

“Be that as may, Lord Hraesvelgr,” the young Elezen said, “Ysayle’s desire to heal the rift between man and dragon is real, and it has borne us this far. We would spare both our kind and yours the ravages of this senseless war! Pray join your voice to ours in a call for peace and forgiveness!”

“The tale of thy kind is one of avarice, treachery, and death,” the great dragon replied, “and thou wouldst speak to me of peace? Hark thee, mortal, to the naked truth… then tell me thou deservest forgiveness!” he roared angrily. “Twelve hundred years ago, my beloved Shiva’s sacrifice served to bring an end to the war ‘twixt man and dragon, paving the way for an age of peace and cooperation. Two centuries of harmony were to follow, during which time the Elezen learned much about us, not least that the eyes of a great wyrm are the wellspring of his strength. ‘Twas out of the selfish desire to possess this strength that King Thordan then conspired to undo all that our peoples had achieved together. With the aid of his leal knights, that most noble of Elezen lured my brood-sister Ratatoskr into an ambush, and took from her that which he craved. Fan would I strike the image from my mind, yet still the scene doth linger – of my brood-sister’s tattered corpse, defiled by her Elezen allies. They had torn out her eyes, and feasted upon them in the manner of wild beasts. Yet that was not all, for from their bloody banquet, the fiends had gained strength beyond that of mortal men… Even now, I labor to comprehend the enormity of their betrayal,” he sighed and shook his mighty head. “Nidhogg was the first to learn of the atrocity, and he took to the skies, hungry for vengeance. But though he slew Thordan and some few of his knights, their fellow butchers knew only too well where to aim their spears, and with now-practiced savagery, they set about my brood-brother, sending him flailing from the field. Such is the truth the Holy See would keep hidden. Such was the beginning of the Dragonsong War. ‘Tis as song my kind shall ne’er forget, e’en should ten thousand years pass and Ishgard crumble into dust.”

“Your tale bears scant resemblance to the one I was taught,” Estinien said boldly as he stormed up to Hraesvelgr. “How convenient that it should absolve your kind of all responsibility. But tell me, dragon: why should I believe your version of events?”

“What thou choosest to believe is immaterial,” Hraesvelgr said calmly. “The betrayal that yet haunts mine every waking moment is no less than the truth to my kind. And Nidhogg meaneth for Thordan’s people to suffer for this sin till the end of days. That which thou imaginest a war of extinction is but a punishment – a siege of the spirit. Hast thou not seen those who tire of the torment? Those who abandon their own and side with dragonkind?”

“Ishgard’s so-called heretics,” Alphinaud muttered.

“Know that all the traitors’ progeny bear a trace of Ratatoskr’s essence. But a single sip of our blood is enough to awaken it,” Hraesvelgr explained.

“Then… the seed lies within us…?” Ysayle whispered sadly.

“‘Tis for this reason that those who abandon their loyalties are rewarded with a drink,” Hraesvelgr continued. “And thus are they transformed, to join the ranks of Nidhogg’s ever-growing army as newborn dragons. One by one, through death or defection, my brood-brother shall account for all of the betrayers’ children.”

“Ye gods,” Alphinaud groaned. “I have borne witness to such a transformation! Looked on as a heretic assumed the shape of a dragon… I imagined it some manner of Dravanian enchantment! But if any Ishgardian, regardless of allegiance, has such potential within them… Twelve forgive us. To think of all the dragons we’ve slain!”

“There will always be some, of course, who choose to fight until the bitter end – like thee, dragoon,” Hraesvelgr growled as he glared at Estinien. “But struggle as thou might, thy youthful vigor will be spent ere thou reachest two score and ten. And Nidhogg shall remain to torment thine offspring.”

“Oft have I wondered why Nidhogg did not simply raze Ishgard to the ground,” the dragoon replied. “Now I have my answer. He has no intention of winning the Dragonsong War, for it is no war at all, but vengeance – an eternal requiem sung for his murdered sister.”

“Thou hast the right of it, dragonslayer,” Hraesvelgr agreed. “Comprehendest thou now the futility of thy quest?”

“I have not come this far only to admit defeat,” Ysayle retorted. “We can still return the Eye to Nidhogg, and beg forgiveness for our ancestors’ crimes. Mayhap our words will sway him!”

“Stubborn child,” Hraesvelgr muttered. “Thou thinkest in mortal terms. Our perception of time is too broad for thee to grasp. ‘Tis a simple matter for thee to offer thine apologies – thou didst not perpetrate the crime. Despite thy visions, the deeds of history seem distant to thee. For a wyrm such as Nidhogg, however,” he explained calmly, “that history is yet part of his present, as fresh as the blood that did gush from Ratatoskr’s wounds. How could he not be driven mad? ‘Tis only by the calming embrace of Shiva’s soul that mine own fury hath not consumed me. But let us speak no more of what is done. My faith in your kind is spent, and I would be alone.” With that, the great wyrm leapt and flew back from whence he came, leaving the mortals behind in his mighty shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, let me know what you think! Your comments help me get through each hellish week!


	16. The Last Battle?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to the battle with Nidhogg and the aftermath. All of the aftermath. Try not to hate me, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters from Final Fantasy XIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Though she did not much care for the idea of giving up the search for a peaceful resolution in favor of a solution that involved fighting a dragon, T’lorna followed the two men east to the Aery. Part of her hoped that she would be able to convince Estinien to part with the Eye and then convince Nidhogg to forgo his campaign to transform the Ishgardians into dragons. She knew it was a foolish fancy to hope she could either, let alone both, but still, she prayed that there would be some way to make it work.  
After all, she had promised Raha that she would do whatever it took to build a better world for him to awaken to.

“Is that it?” Alphinaud asked in wonder as he stared up at the structure looming high overhead. It was hidden in thick, black clouds and illuminated only briefly by flashes of lightning.

“Aye,” Estinien replied. “That would be the Aery. I feel Nidhogg’s presence through the Eye – his caustic hatred gnawing at my soul. ‘Twould seem the death of his consort has put him on guard. Mark how he wards his lair with tempestuous winds.”

“A similar barrier once barred our entrance to the primal Garuda’s domain,” Alphinaud said. “Until we discovered the means by which it could be penetrated.” Estinien grinned, his white teeth flashing ominously beneath the dragoon’s helm he wore, obscuring most of his face. “Mayhap it is time we called upon Master Garlond. ‘Twill be just like the good old days, no?” Alphinaud continued. T’lorna nodded in agreement. Working with Cid, though it would bring back painful memories of the last time she had seen the Garlean, was the only way to reach Nidhogg and settle this matter once and for all. She and Alphinaud left Estinien to guard the Aery while they made their way back to Ishgard to consult with the inventor who had helped them so often in the past.

~*~*~*~

Idly, as she rode the manacutter that would take her and the others into the Aery, T’lorna wondered if she would ever reach a point in her life where only one major concern was pressing at her at a time. No sooner had she and Alphinaud returned to Ishgard and sought out Cid than they had learned that Raubahn needed their help dealing with the troubles still plaguing Ul’dah.

A trip through the desert of Western Thanalan, a simple but terrifying interrogation, and a meeting with Lord Lolorito later and they had the antidote to the potion which had the sultana sleeping so soundly. With Raubahn restored to his position as Flame General and Nanamo ul Namo awake and in charge of her country once more, Alphinaud and T’lorna returned to the Rising Stones to formally disband the Crystal Braves.

“C-Commander!?” Alianne, one of the loyal members of Alphinaud’s aborted attempt at a Grand Company, said in shock as the Elezen and T’lorna walked into the Rising Stones. “You’re alive!”

“An’ T’lorna, too!” Riol shouted. “I knew ye’d scrape through!”

“My splendid Crystal Braves,” Alphinaud began, “I have wronged you. All of you. My promises of glory and salvation have brought you naught but blood and betrayal.”

“Bah,” Riol said dismissively. “Ye’ll not hear us complainin’. ‘Twast a sight messier than expected, ate, but we was still fightin’ for the freedom of all – just like we swore. Ain’t that right, mates?” The rest of the Braves cheered in agreement at that.

“You humble me,” Alphinaud sighed as he lowered his face. “I am truly blessed to have such steadfast comrades. It is with the most profound regret, then, that I must…”

“That’s enough o’ that, Commander!” Riol cut in. “We know what ye’ve a mind to say, an’ we ain’t havin’ none of it. We’ve talked it over, see, an’ we’re all agreed; ye can take our uniforms, an’ strip us of our ranks – but we won’t be no less of a company.”

“But the Crystal Braves,” Alphinaud protested.

“The Crystal Braves may be finished,” Alianne said, “but the ideals upon which the company was founded live on. They bind us to each other – and to you.”

“Commander,” Riol started and then shook his head slightly, “ _Alphinaud._ Our minds are made up, so ye may as well get used to it. Let us help the Scions. Let us help you find Minfilia an’ the others.”

“My friends…” the young Elezen stammered. “A-after all that has happened… I know not what to say…” he lowered his face again and clenched his fists, overcome with emotion. T’lorna smiled at him, knowing exactly the bittersweet brew that burned in his heart. She herself had felt it many times – most especially when speaking with Cid during the quiet moments in his shop. He’d shared with her what little he had managed to learn from studying the Allagan ruins dotting Mor Dhona and she found herself thinking of how Raha’s face would light up when he learned something from his ancestors. “Pray excuse me,” Alphinaud sniffled. “I had thought my tears spent. My grandfather used to say that one could measure a man by the constancy of his comrades… Mayhap I am the exception which proves the rule. Nay, do not protest,” he added when T’lorna opened her mouth to argue with him, “I know that I am not worthy of their loyalty, T’lorna. But, as Thaliak is my witness, I shall do _everything_ in my power to earn it.”

The wind blew through her hair, bringing T’lorna back to the present. The opening to the Aery loomed just in front of her. Ordering her thoughts and going back over her spells, the Warrior of Light set her focus on the task before her and promised to give herself at least one evening to reminisce over recent days with her journal.

~*~*~*~

The fight through the Aery had been brutal. Nidhogg’s lieutenants and minions had contested every inch of their haven, forcing T’lorna, Alphinaud, and Estinien to use every trick at their disposal just to reach the inner sanctum where Nidhogg himself awaited them.

The great dragon was not pleased to see mortal penetrating so deeply into his home. He’d attacked and fought with them, bringing everything he had to bear against them. Only T’lorna’s healing magic, Estinien’s sheer stubbornness, and Alphinaud’s quick wits and ways with arcana allowed them to fight the dragon to a state of defeat. With an angry roar, Nidhogg fled and flew away, only to wheel back and try to swoop down on his attackers. Estinien held out the dragon’s Eye to shield them from the blast and Nidhogg crashed to the ground with a roar of rage.

“Thou wouldst use mine own eye against me!?” Nidhogg raved. “Time hath done naught to dilute thy kind’s depravity! I have not forgotten thee, dragoon! Mine essence claimed thee once… and shall do so again!”

“No, wyrm!” Estinien shouted, his gravelly voice carrying throughout the Aery. “This ends here!” With that, the dragoon leveled his harpoon at the dragon, ran, and leapt into the air. He landed, his spear-point driving deeply into Nidhogg’s skull, just between the dragon’s eye sockets. Nidhogg roared and tried to shake the Elezen off but to no avail. T’lorna watched the great beast fly away, Estinien still clinging to him. She could not see the mortal blow that the dragoon knight landed but she watched in horror as Nidhogg gave a final, defiant bellow and then fell to the ground far below.

When Estinien reappeared, landing light, on the ground near T’lorna, his black armor was stained bright crimson with the dragon’s blood. Nidhogg’s remaining eye was now wedged upon the tip of Estinien’s spear. T’lorna could sense the raw power that it contained and it make her feel sick to her stomach.

“You gifted my people a thousand years of suffering,” Estinien roared into the mist. “Now I gift you an eternity in darkness!”

T’lorna shuddered. Pain lanced through her and she found herself back in the darkness where her Crystals of Light once shone. A third burned back to life and she felt the pain lift as if she had forced her way through some kind of great trial.

Then, a vision from the Echo took her over. She saw several Elezen warriors standing in the ruins of what once might have been a fortress or a tower. Bodies covered in tarps lay in a line and the Elezen looked exhausted.

Then one approached, a great dragon’s eye in either hand.

“They are ours, Lord Haldrath. The Eyes of Nidhogg!” one of the Elezen fighters said.

“Aye,” Haldrath said. “The wyrm lies broken and my father is avenged. With the wellspring of his vitality thus denied him, Nidhogg shall not linger long in this world. But behold the terrible price we have paid. My sire is dead; so many brother knights slain. We traded our honor for the strength which now courses in our veins. And still we are forced to make such sacrifice.”

“But not in vain, my lord. Hraesvelgr is the only great wyrm left in Dravania and he dares not leave his lair,” the first speaker said. “With Nidhogg’s eyes in your possession, who now can challenge the might of Ishgard? Ascend the throne, and take your rightful place as the ruler of our people!”

With that, Haldrath tucked the eyes away. “Nay, my friend. I must forsake the mantle of king. Though Nidhogg be defeatd, his wyrmling horde yet darkens the skies with wings beyond counting. As one who partook of Ratatoskr’s strength, it shall be my penance to bear a knight’s arms until death grants me leave to retire. When that day comes, no prince shall perish, but a hells-bound hunter of dragons…”

“But Lord Haldrath!” the first Elezen protested. “What then shall become of the royal line!?”

“Think of your people, my lord,” another man said, this one with black hair and a face that made T’lorna think of Haurchefant. “Without a king, who will the common man turn to in his hour of need? How will he find his way without your benevolent hand to guide him?”

“I thank you, Ser Flavien and Ser Sylvetrel,” Haldrath said, “for dispelling my remaining doubts. With men of such wisdom and compassion in service to the realm, ‘tis plain that Ishgard has no need of a king. But if you must bow to the demands of tradition, you need look no further than yourselves for one worthy to wear the crown.” With that, Haldrath walked over and put on a helm. With it atop his head, T’lorna thought he looked like a precursor to the dragoon knight Estinien. “Fare thee well, my brother knights,” he said. “My loyal friends. On these shoulders shall I bear the weight of my father’s sins; with this lance shall I repay the debt accrued through our misdeeds.” With that, Haldrath left and the vision faded. Another quickly replaced it.

“What cruel jest has fate played upon us?” the first Elezen, Ser Sylvetrel, asked as he covered his face with his hand. “Have we seized this desperate victory only to lose a king?”

“We can but act as our lord has bid,” Ser Flavien replied. “We few who remain must divide between us the rulership of Ishgard and her people.”

“Not I,” a sword-wielding knight with a deep, gravelly voice said. “My oath was to Lord Haldrath, and he alone. If he is not to be king, then I would hang up my shield, as well.”

“Will you abandon us, too, ser?” Syvetrel asked.

“I would wash my hands of blood and betrayal and take up an honest trade,” the knight said. “Mayhap I shall serve ale instead of sharpened steel.” Several of the other knights left with him, leaving only four behind.

“We four, then,” Flavien said.

“Fortemps, Haillenarte, Durendaire, and Dzemael,” Sylvetrel said. “But four houses to rule all of Ishgard?”

“And what of the throne?” Flavien asked.

“We keep it empty. Until the day a king rises once more, we must assume the role of stewards,” Sylvetrel replied. “We shall shape our nation anew with a history of our own making – and let the truth of this dark day die here, upon the battlefield.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna regained a sense of herself and stared at the blood covered Estinien who was walking up to her.

“What ails you friend?” he asked. “Are you wounded?” She shook her head and recounted the vision to him. “You have borne witness to history… to the culmination of the first battle with Nidhogg. The legend of Ishgard’s founding tells that our ancestors were led to the land of Coerthas by the valiant King Thordan. In the midst of their journey, they came to a wide chasm, where they were set upon by a great wyrm – Nidhogg. A furious battle then ensued, with Thordan leading the van. Though the brave king was slain defending his people, his son, Haldrath, the first Azure Dragoon, fought on undaunted. And with a mighty thrust of his lance, he gouged out Nidhogg’s eye, forcing the wicked creature into retreat. Thus did this eldritch orb become a sacred treasure of Ishgard, lending its power to every knight deemed worthy to bear the title of Azure Dragoon. A rousing tale, is it not?” he asked. “Would that I could still believe it. But your vision, which we must accept as immutable truth, leaves no room for doubt – save on one point. If Haldrath took both of Nidhogg’s eyes, then how came this eye to be lodged in the wyrm’s skull?” He passed the yellow eye to T’lorna. “Beneath every answer we unearth, another question lies buried.”

With that, they left the Aery and made their way back to the manacutters that would take them out of the Aery.

“‘Twas a fierce battle, but one I knew we would win,” Estinien said once they were all three back on safe ground. “Your fame is well deserved, Warrior of Light. Full proud am I to have fought at your side. I would fain return with all swiftness to Ishgard to inform the lord commander of our triumph…” he trailed off, crossing his arms in vexation. “But we must first have words with Hraesvelgr. There are parts of this tale that the wyrm has kept from us, and I would know wherefore…”

T’lorna sighed but nodded. She, too, wanted to know just where the second eye had come from.

~*~*~*~

“‘Twas you, was it not?” Ysayle said accusingly as T’lorna and Estinien approached her near where they’d left her following their meeting with Hraesvelgr. “The furious screams of the dragons carried far. You have slain Nidhogg – what more could you desire from this place? Will you not allow Hraesvelgr to mourn the death of his kin in peace!?”

“Spare us your sanctimonious judgment, ice maiden,” Estinien growled. “We have a _gift_ for the great wyrm… and a mystery that can no longer lie buried.” Ysayle snorted in derision but held her tongue so Estinien pressed on. “Lady Iceheart – the Dragonsong War has all but consumed your life and claimed many of your followers. ‘Tis time you learned the truth of its beginning – the _whole_ truth – that we may at last bring this bitter conflict to an end.” Turning to T’lorna, the dragoon knight nodded. “Sound the horn, Warrior of Light!”

T’lorna sighed but did as she was ordered. She raised the bugle to her lips and blew, sounding a clear, clarion note that pierced the heavens. Within moments, Hraesvelgr landed in front of them.

“Impenitent mortals,” he growled, “ever seeking to bury old wrongs under new. I did sense the moment of Nidhogg’s demise.”

“You mean the moment I prised your eye from his head?” Estinien suggested. Hraesvelgr turned and fixed his gaze on the dragoon.

“‘Twould seem thou hast uncovered my secret. Aye. Unto the blinded Nidhogg did I yield one half of my strength,” the great dragon admitted.

With that, T’lorna reached into her satchel and pulled out the eye. She held it up to Hraesvelgr and watched as it transformed into a ball of pure energy that flew unerringly towards its true owner. No sooner had it filled the empty socket once more than T’lorna felt herself overcome with a vision from the Echo.

A blind dragon half-flew, half-crashed into a towering sanctum. Hraesvelgr stood inside, staring at the dragon in horror.

“Nidhogg,” he said, “what hath befallen thee?”

“We are undone by covetous mortals,” Nidhogg replied. “They did take Ratatoskr’s eyes… and glut their appetites upon her essence.”

“She is slain, then?” Hraesvelgr said mournfully. “What madness hath unmade our peaceful accord?”

“Did I not warn thee, brood-brother? They have ever been untrustworthy creatures, these short-lived Elezen. But thou wert enchanted by thy mortal maid. Thy folly hath cost Ratatoskr her life, and me mine eyes.”

“Oh, my beloved Shiva… How swiftly are thy kin made beastial by their appetites,” Hraesvelgr sighed.

“Hraesvelgr. ‘Twas thy blindness that did invite disaster into our lands,” Nidhogg accused. “Surrender thee any eye to me, and let that be thy penance.”

“Nidhogg…”

“They bested me once, but I was reckless. I shall need but a single eye to inflict enduring torment upon these traitors and every child of their line!” Nidhogg vowed. “Yield to me thy strength, brood-brother!” With that, one of Hraesvelgr’s eyes floated to Nidhogg, giving the blinded dragon power and sight once more. “My vengeance is begun!” he roared.

With that, the vision ended and T’lorna found herself back in the present. “Thou hast borne witness to a scene from my past,” Hraesvelgr said calmly.

“It was yours… Your strength that sustained Nidhogg all these years,” Ysayle said softly, sadly.

“Would that Haldrath had dealt the wyrm a killing blow,” Estinien muttered.

“When my brood-brother did appear before me, bloody and blinded, his life was all but spent,” Hraesvelgr explained. “He demanded half my vigor, that he might exact his revenge upon the mortals who had wronged us.”

“And so you acquiesced!” Ysayle shouted. “You surrendered your eye to Nidhogg knowing full well the suffering he would inflict!”

Hraesvelgr closed his eyes. “The peace my beloved so dearly desired had been shattered by her own kin. Their treachery claimed my brood-sister’s life and my brood-brother’s reason! Thinkest thou thy fits of indignation will move me to remorse!?” he roared angrily. Stung by his words, Ysayle backed down. “Go, mortals! Take your unruly passions and leave this place… Your presence here spelleth naught but misery. Were it not for Shiva’s soothing embrace, I would slay you where you stand. Woe betide you should the bond we share ever weaken!”

With that, Hraesvelgr took to the skies once more, leaving the three to ponder his words and his warning.

“Though he lifted not a single claw,” Estinien muttered sourly, “‘twould seem that Hraesvelgr wreaked his own manner of vengeance against us. ‘Twas my life’s goal to slay Nidhogg, but I find there is little joy to be had in its accomplishment.”

“But you have rid the world of a hate-filled creature, and ended a bloody war in so doing,” Ysayle replied.

“I lost my family to Nidhogg’s flames. And ‘twas with fury in my heart that I took up the lance. Every blow I struck, I struck in the name of vengeance. We were not so different, he and I,” Estinien said. T’lorna was surprised to find the reticent man opening up so much about himself and his past.

“I will not judge you for your deeds,” Ysayle said softly. “I have not the right. Too many innocents have perished in the name of my ‘greater good.’”

“Yet even with all that has passed, the tale is incomplete,” Estinien sighed. “We are short a great wyrm’s eye. Of the pair which Haldrath took from Nidhogg, only one is known to use – the one I bear. What, then, became of the other? Why did Nidhogg, who had taken such pains to prolong the Dragonsong War, suddenly decide to hurl his entire army against the walls of Ishgard?” As they pondered the question, Estinien’s link-pearl rang. “Lord Commander,” he said. “Aye, the deed is done. Nidhogg is slain. _What?_ In the city? A battle with whom!?” he demanded, his voice sharp with shock. A pause for Aymeric’s reply and then, “At once, Lord Commander. Hold firm till our return.” He ended the call and then explained the situation to the two women standing with him. “Fighting has broken out in the city. Lord Aymeric was sparse with the particulars, but it seems some commoners threw open the gates to a force of heretics.”

“I gave no order to attack!” Ysayle protested.

“Are we to mark the end of the Dragonsong War by spilling the blood of our own?” Estinien wondered. “Mayhap Hraesvelgr was right about us. Let us away, Warrior of Light. The people must be saved from themselves.” T’lorna nodded and she and Estinien began to jog back towards Ishgard.

“Wait!” Ysayle shouted. “I would join you!” The two stopped to regard her. “There has been enough violence. I will appeal to my people in the city and make them see reason!”

“Come then, Lady Iceheart,” Estinien said as he waved for her to join them. “Let us write the final chapter in this damnable war.”

Together, the trio headed back for Ishgard to see what help they could provide to those who needed protection from themselves.

~*~*~*~

By the time they reached Ishgard, the fighting had spilled out into the streets. Several homes were ablaze and the fires made the temperature almost tolerable. Running through the city, T’lorna spotted Haurchefant leading men to help quench the flames and quell the riots. The silver-haired Elezen took in the companions she had with her and nodded, giving them permission to join him. Together, the four ran up the rising roadways and into the Pillars.

“There!” Haurchefant shouted as he spied a group of heretics squaring off against Ishgardian knights. Ysayle darted out in front of the knights and held her arms wide, facing her former companions boldly.

“Comrades!” she shouted. “Sheathe your swords! There is no need for further bloodshed!”

“My lady?!” one of the heretics, his face hidden by a simple metal faceguard, said in surprise.

“She is come!” another called out in thankfulness. The heretics began celebrating as if they knew that triumph was within their grasp.

“Here me, brothers and sisters!” Ysayle continued. “The war is ended! Nidhogg is no more!” Her pronouncement shocked the group to stillness. “Aye, it is so!” she said, her voice carrying over the din of flames and shouts. “This adventurer and the Azure Dragoon laid the great wyrm low! The endless cycle of violence between man and dragon was born out of our forefathers’ treachery,” she explained. “You have followed me – bled with me – to bring this truth to light, that we might all know peace! But Nidhogg is dead – Nidhogg is dead, my friends! He who bore such hatred towards Ishgard is dead! Let his hatred die with him, I say! Let us sheathe our swords and go in peace!”

“Have we lost?” one of her followers asked.

“No, my friend,” she insisted. “Far from it! At long last, the peace for which we have so desperately fought is within our grasp! And I for one would not forsake it!”

“Peace?” another of her followers said, her voice trembling. Defeated, their heads bowed and their weapons sheathed, the heretics began to leave. Ysayle followed them.

“Seize the witch!” one of the Temple Knights ordered. “Let none escape!” Haurchefant and Estinien moved in, blocking the knights from capturing Ysayle and the others.

“Providing aid and succor to the wounded should be our first concern,” Haurchefant pointed out. “If the heretics mean to observe the peace, then it would be folly not to do the same!”

The knights departed, going the opposite direction from the heretics, and Haurchefant heaved a sigh of relief. “That was rather too close for comfort,” he muttered, “but ‘twould seem that calm is returning to the streets. My mind, however, yet clamors with a thousand questions! You return to Ishgard in the oddest of company, my friend!” he teased T’lorna. “Whatever is going on, T’lorna?” he asked, his tone switching from teasing to thoughtful in an instant.

“We traveled to speak with Hraesvelgr together,” she explained. “Ysayle had a connection to the great dragon that we could use for a parley. Estinien helped me to find her and together – with Alphinaud – we sought out and spoke with Hraesvelgr. From there, we went on to face Nidhogg and wound up bringing him down rather permanently. He will trouble Ishgard no longer.”

“Beg pardon?” Haurchefant gasped in shock. “You traveled to the Churning Mists together? Along with _Estinien_!? Never was there a more unlikely alliance – nor one so magnificently effective! Nidhogg, dead; the heretics, pacified – Father and Ser Aymeric must know of this!”

“Let us break the news to them together,” Estinien suggested. “I will bring Ser Aymeric to Fortemps Manor.”

“Hmm,” Haurchefant mused. “Yes, an excellent suggestion. Very well. T’lorna and I shall await you there!” Estinien nodded and headed to the offices where the Lord Commander was ensconced while Haurchefant gestured for T’lorna to walk beside him as they made their way through the Pillars towards the Fortemps Manor. “You look tired, my friend,” he said softly. “Was the battle so fierce?”

“It was wearing,” she admitted, “but I’ve been exhausted for weeks now. It’s this damnable cold,” she explained. “I feel as if I will never get warm when I am in Coerthas. It makes me so tired that I can hardly keep my food down. Lately, it’s even begun to make my chest hurt.”

“Perhaps we should have the healers look at you,” he suggested. “You could be coming down with a lung fever. They often start with exhaustion and pain in the chest and back. I am certain that I can help you to carve out a few solid days to get real rest before you plunge into your next battle.”

“That would be welcome,” she admitted with a soft smile. By then, the pair had reached the Fortemps Manor and Haurchefant led her in, taking her to the sitting room and pulling a chair closer to the fire so she could get warm while they waited for Aymeric and Estinien to join them.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna found herself grateful that Aymeric and Estinien had been delayed. For all that she wanted to blaze news of the end of the Dragonsong War from every tower in Ishgard, she was weary to the bone. She’d actually fallen asleep sitting near the fire and had woken to find herself being carried by Haurchefant back to her rooms. Once there, he’d ordered a bath drawn and dinner to be sent up on a tray for later and had then pulled the screens in front of her tub so that he could stay seated on the other side and speak with her while she soaked.

The hot water did much to revive her even as she felt a warm, heavy lassitude seeping into her with the heat.

“Ser Aymeric is busy dealing with the aftermath of the riots. He sends word that he welcomes the news we will bring him but that he cannot get away for another several days,” Haurchefant explained as he settled into his seat. “I sent Alphinaud back with word that you yourself are beyond tired and require a few days’ before you can share your news. Still, T’lorna, to fall out of your chair from fatigue? I thought you said that the battle was not all that exhausting. I am worried about you, my friend.”

“I’ll be fine,” she yawned as she blinked and forced herself to sit upright in the tub. Taking the soap and washcloth, she began to scrub several days’ worth of dirt, sweat, blood, and grime off her skin. “I just need some rest.”

“I will see that you get it,” he promised. “I will take the smaller trundle bed across from your bed and wait on you hand and foot until you are completely well.”

“That is…”

“There is nothing inappropriate about it,” he said before she could protest. “We just won’t lock the door to the bedchamber. That way chaperones will have ample opportunity to peek in and see that we are sleeping separately. Do not try to talk me out of this, T’lorna. You were as white as fresh snow when you fell. Now that you have time to rest, your illness may catch up with you with a vengeance. I would be on hand in case you need anything – including help breathing.”

“Fine,” she muttered as she finished washing and stepped out of the tub. Toweling off quickly and donning the thick woolen bedclothes and undergarments, she walked out from behind the screens and took a seat at the table before the fire. The tray had arrived just moments before and she leaned over to inhale the scent of hot beef stew before digging in.

At least, that had been her plan.

No sooner did the scent of the meat hit her nose than her stomach rebelled and she dashed back to the tub to empty her belly into the cooling water. Haurchefant was at her side in an instant, holding back her long, unbound hair so that her sick-up did not get in it. He wrinkled his nose at the smell but said nothing. Once she was finished being sick, he picked her up and carried her to her bed. Tucking her in, he returned with a glass of tepid water and a bowl for her to use to rinse out her mouth. This done, she took a few careful sips and found that the water, while not making her sick, did nothing to relieve the pain in her belly.

“I’m going for the healers,” Haurchefant muttered as he took the glass from her shaking, unsteady grip. “One of the maids will sit with you until I return.”

T’lorna nodded and instantly regretted it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and focused on trying to stop the nausea welling up in her from the scent of the stew that still permeated the room. When the maid entered the room moments later, she set up a cry that T’lorna had not touched her dinner. Before the Miqo’te could protest, the Elezen woman bustled over with the tray and T’lorna found herself bolting out of the bed and over to the ewer to empty her stomach again.

Her legs gave out, dropping her onto the thick carpets and she moaned. She was so weary that she knew sleep would be long in coming and she felt as if her chest was a mass of burning bruises. Her stomach continued to rebel even after the maid hastily removed the tray. T’lorna wanted nothing more than to be left to die in peace.

“Raha,” she gasped, tears trickling down her face, “I have failed you.”

Several maids returned to the room and cleaned T’lorna up, helping her to change into fresh bedclothes and then easing her onto a swooning couch they’d dragged over to the fireplace. Covering her with thick blankets, they hovered nearby but, thankfully, left her in peace.

Nearly two bells later T’lorna roused from a light slumber as Haurchefant returned with a healer in tow. He issued quick, quiet, but firm orders to the maids and soon the room was empty of all but T’lorna, Haurchefant, and the healer.

“I understand you’ve been feeling under the weather,” the healer said sympathetically as she moved over to sit on the ottoman near the swooning couch. “Can you tell me a little about it?”

“I’ve been getting sick in the mornings for the past several weeks,” T’lorna sighed. “I’m sleeping more than I used to and, even with the extra sleep, I’m still tired. A few days ago, once my stomach had settled, I could eat quite well but today, the smell of food made me violently ill several times.”

“I see. What kind of food was it?”

“Beef stew,” she replied, her brow furrowing in thought. “And I really _like_ beef stew. The cook here makes an excellent one. But for some reason, the smell of it…”

“Have you had any tenderness in your breasts?” the healer asked.

“Yes, some,” T’lorna admitted as she cast a quick glance at Haurchefant. The Elezen seemed to take the news in stride with none of the usual blushing or heated looks most men wore when a woman discussed her more private areas.

“When was your last monthly cycle?” the healer continued, her brown eyes warm but serious. At this, Haurchefant did give a slight start.

“It was…” T’lorna thought furiously for several moments. “Nearly two and a half moons ago,” she groaned. “Just before the Crystal Tower.”

“I’ll need to check but it seems congratulations may be in order,” the healer said brightly. “Before we say anything else, let me check you more thoroughly to be certain you are pregnant. After all, you could have an illness that acts like the first stages of pregnancy.” With that, the healer placed her hands over T’lorna’s abdomen and sent out her healing energies. T’lorna fell into her own meditative state, channeling her own abilities alongside the healer’s and reaching the same conclusion at the same time.

“I’m going to have a baby,” T’lorna said tonelessly, her heart too full for emotion.

“It seems that you are,” the healer agreed. “You’re quite early in your pregnancy. I will leave a tea that you can drink which will help you with the nausea and vomiting. The tenderness in your breasts will pass in a few weeks but keeping your chest warm and well-shielded will help with the worst of it. I would tell you to get rest but I suppose being the Warrior of Light means you don’t get much downtime…”

“She’ll get as much rest as she can,” Haurchefant promised, his voice harsh. “Thank you for your time and your discretion,” he added, eyeing the woman coolly.

“Of course, my lord,” the healer said, bowing her head. “I will say nothing of this. It is a woman’s prerogative to share such news when she is ready.” With that, the woman bowed again and then walked out of the room. Haurchefant waited until the door closed behind her before walking over and sitting down on the now-empty ottoman.

“Tell me true, friend: have you a lover who will wed with you and provide your child the safety of a name? There is no need to feel shame with me. I am myself baseborn for all that my father is the lord of House Fortemps.”

“Yes and no,” T’lorna sighed, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth to keep from crying. “Please, Haurchefant. Do not press me about him. It hurts to think of him.”

“Did he take you by force?” Haurchefant growled. “If so, tell me his name and he will not long breathe good air. That I vow and take Halone as my witness!”

“What?” she gasped, opening her eyes. “No! Haurchefant, he did not hurt me. At least, he did not hurt me at first,” she said softly, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. “I love him with all of my heart. With my soul. When he vowed himself to me that night and I vowed myself to him and we exchanged rings,” she sighed, twisting the simple gold band she wore on her left hand, “I thought I would never know sorrow again so long as I was with him.”

“Who was he, then? And how did he come to leave you here?”

“His name,” she said, her voice a tremulous whisper, “is G’raha Tia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...some of you have twigged onto what was going on. Again, try not to hate me too much. There is a purpose to everything in the story beyond just making you feel certain emotions. :) Stick with me because I can promise you one heck of a ride!
> 
> And, as always, your comments help me get through the week. I've been having some rough ones but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Starting this summer, I will leave teaching entirely and return to IT -- my first "love." There may be some disruptions in posting in late May and early June but I will do my best to let you know what is going on. I can honestly say that those of you who are commenting are the ones who gave me the confidence to decide to turn my back on teaching and return to the industry where I belong! I love you all!


	17. The Widowed Ward of House Fortemps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we have some more sadness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“That is… quite a tale,” Haurchefant said slowly as T’lorna finished telling him of her time at the Crystal Tower. She had spared no detail. He now knew of this G’raha Tia almost as intimately as she had. He knew of her love, of her passion for the Miqo’te bowyer who could trace his lineage back to ancient Allag. “So, the two of you swore to one another. Have you any proof of this binding?” he asked. “I do not ask out of idle and morbid curiosity. I ask out of concern for you, my friend.”

“Concern?” she asked, bewildered.

“Understand this, T’lorna,” Haurchefant sighed. “You may be the Warrior of Light. You may have ended the Dragonsong War. However, you are, as yet, an unmarried woman in Ishgard. If you do not have proof that your child has a father to whom you are wedded, then your child will be a bastard. Like me. It is difficult growing up a bastard in this land,” he added softly. “Though my father never denied me, I am not able to claim him. He was not wedded to my mother. That is why I am Greystone and not Fortemps. My brothers who were born to my father’s wife will inherit the house and all its wealth and privileges. I would spare you that, my friend. I would spare your child. I know that you will never love me as you love this G’raha Tia,” he said, his tone light but filled with self-deprecation. “That said, I would offer you my hand. Though I be base born, any child born to my wife would be considered legitimate. Therefore, I offer you my hand, T’lorna Zhiki. I would expect nothing from you. We need only spend a single night in the same bed for the marriage to be considered consummated and valid. You could be big-bellied with child and deliver the day after the wedding, but the child would be considered mine under the law,” he explained. “Unless you can prove your marriage valid under the law, consider my offer. I will not press you for anything other than friendship and companionship. I will not demand a true consummation. Instead, all I would ask is your continuing friendship and whatever affection you can spare me.”

“Haurchefant…”

“No,” he pressed. “Let me say this. I care for you deeply, my friend. I admire you greatly. You are the Warrior of Light and I would do nothing to stop you from fulfilling your destiny. I would stand at your side or behind you, supporting you all the while. Again, I will never force myself on you but would work towards the day when you might invite me to your bed. I would go to your tribe and do whatever it took to prove myself worthy of wedding you.”

T’lorna bit her lip and thought for a long moment. Finally, she stood. Swallowing the nausea that swept through her, she walked over to where her overcoat lay and pulled the letter from her husband from the pocket. Handing it to Haurchefant, she returned to the bed and lay down while he read through it.

When he finished, he set it in his lap and stared off into the distance. His blue eyes were distracted as he looked at something far beyond the room in which he sat. Finally, Haurchefant sighed and shuddered, coming back to himself.

“It seems clear, then,” he muttered. “You are a widow.”

“But Raha is not…”

“He may not be dead in the strictest sense of the word,” the Elezen said swiftly, cutting T’lorna off, “but he is not around to claim your child in his own right. Instead, we have this,” he said, waving the letter. “This will be enough to register your marriage with the Holy See and with my father. Your child has a man to claim him or her, even if he cannot be there at the birth. Instead, I offer myself as a surrogate father or uncle. I will be there with you through your pregnancy, a friend and fellow-traveler. I will hold your hand and offer you encouragement as you labor to give birth. I will teach your son or daughter all that they will need to know of fighting, of warfare, and of faith. I will be the best uncle in history. If you will permit it,” he said, his eyes pleading.

“Of course I will permit that, Haurchefant,” T’lorna replied, her sapphire eyes glistening with tears. “I am certain that Raha would be honored to hear that such a great man as you is willing to stand in and be the father-figure that he cannot be.”

“Then, with your permission, I will take this letter to my father and discuss this matter with him. I will also take care of arranging for your clothes to be dyed black.”

“Black?” she asked, aghast. Black was an unlucky color for her tribe.

“Yes, black,” he said firmly. “I will also purchase veils for your hair. For a year and a day, you must dress in darkest, deepest mourning. You must cover your head and wear a veil that will cover your face except for your eyes. That will be relaxed a bit after your give birth but only here in the manor. After all,” he laughed, “one can hardly expect a widow with a new-born babe to be veiled heavily while she attends her child. After the year and a day is done, you will be expected only to wear black clothing. You may leave off the veils for your hair and face. Once three years have passed, you may begin to accept social invitations outside of the formal occasions that might be required of you as the Warrior of Light.” He sighed and shook his head. “However, during those first four years, such occasions will be few and far between and more private than public. After five years of mourning, you can return to wearing colors so long as they are not bright – muted colors only. You will be expected to dress as a matron the whole while, however. That means nothing low-cut or that shows your legs. Should you still be un-wed after ten years, you will be expected to wear a black ribbon around your arm. I know, it must sound strange to a woman who is not Ishgardian,” he added, “but such things are our custom. In public, you will be expected to be modest, not to look any man in the eyes directly, and to keep your head bowed in sorrow. Especially during the first year. I know that Aymeric and the others will forgive you any momentary lapses but you must be certain to be on perfect behavior for the other Houses and, Halone protect us, the Knights Twelve and Archbishop.”

“Will my child be expected to dress in mourning as well?” T’lorna asked with a touch of asperity.

“Actually yes. When your child is an infant still in dresses, he or she will be expected to be dressed in black. However, once your child is old enough to start rolling over, some color will be permitted. Especially since your son or daughter will never have known their father. Also, should any man be crude enough to mention that you are a lovely woman or hint at any kind of romantic interest during the first year, you must make an immediate reference to your dead husband and your love for him. Anything else will be taken as a sign that you are not faithful to his memory.”

“Gods be good,” T’lorna sighed. “Are there any other rules I should be aware of?”

“I’ve told you all that I know,” Haurchefant replied. “That said, I will ask around and have some of our older, widowed maid servants come in to advise you on proper etiquette. Understand that I myself know only the superficial expectations,” he added. “I am a man. Should I marry and lose my wife, all that will be expected of me is that I wear a single black armband for the first year. Women bear the brunt of mourning and, though it be unfair in the extreme, such is the way of my people. Now, take your rest. You may continue to fight and fulfill your destiny until you are six moons gone. After that, you will be expected to confine yourself to the manor,” he added, sounding apologetic. “If you find that too stifling, you may return to your people at the sixth moon in order to give birth there. I will go with you, of course.”

“That’s not unusual,” she muttered. “Most women in my tribe give over hunting and doing anything outside of the homegrounds once they are big-bellied. You _will_ keep me company during my confinement?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Very well, then,” T’lorna sighed. “Show your father the letter and register my marriage and pregnancy. I do ask that you keep this from the Scions for now. I will figure out how best to break the news to Alphinaud and Tataru. For now, would you mind asking Master Garlond to visit with me?”

“Right now?” Haurchefant asked in confusion.

“Yes,” T’lorna sighed. “The sooner he and I have this conversation, the better.”

“As you wish, my friend. I will seek him out at once. Get some rest until then.”

~*~*~*~

Cid rapped on the door before ducking his head in. T’lorna roused from her light sleep and waved for the Garlean to enter the room and close the door behind him.

“I would say that you look well,” Cid muttered as he dragged one of the chairs over closer to her bed and sat down, “but you don’t. You look like you’ve been dragged through each of the seven hells. Are you ill?”

“Yes and no,” T’lorna replied. “I’m pregnant.”

“I half-expected this news,” the silver-haired man sighed. “The way that the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other means that this is no surprise. And, on that note, we’re still analyzing the data from your ventures into the Crystal Tower as well as everything you’ve reported to us whenever you’ve encountered Allagan technology. Biggs and Wedge have also been off studying various ruins and Nero has been taking apart everything we can find and trying to figure out how it works. I imagine that you’ll want the Tower opened as soon as possible so that your husband can get to know his son or daughter.”

“I do,” she nodded, her eyes closed against the tears that threatened to wash down her face. “However, my child is _not_ to be used to open the Tower. Not unless the need is beyond dire. None of Raha’s descendants are to be used to open the Tower until our technology and understanding of it has matched that of Allag’s. I will not have my child used to open the Tower prematurely.”

“That is reasonable,” Cid conceded with a wince. “Still, their bloodline may be the only way to open the Tower.”

“You’ll have to find another way,” T’lorna said implacably. “When my child is old enough, I will tell them about their father and about the Tower. I will also tell them that their father must be left alone until such a time as the world is ready for what he guards. I will encourage them to help raise the technological and educational level of the world so that the day when their father can be awoken will come sooner. That is _all_ I will do. I will never ask them to rouse Raha just because I’m missing him.”

“But doesn’t he have a right to know that he’s a father?” Cid asked. “Won’t his child have a right to know him?”

“Raha and I discussed our desire to have children before he shut himself away,” she said, her voice hard and cold. “He knew as well as I that laying together could result in a child. He still chose to shut himself away for a greater cause. I have no choice to go on the assumption that he was willing to give up being a father for that same cause.”

“I see,” Cid said slowly. He was not unaware of the anger that T’lorna was trying to hide behind her icy demeanor and her cold words. However, he also knew that now was not the time to have this particular argument with her. Perhaps, once the child was born, she would change her mind. “Well, know that your little one will have plenty of uncles to stand in for the absent father. There’s myself, Biggs, Wedge, Thancred, Alphinaud, Estinien, Haurchefant, Urianger…” he trailed off, wondering if the rest of the Scions who were still around knew at all that they were about to have a new addition to the family.

“I plan to tell Alphinaud and Tataru soon,” T’lorna said, guessing at the question in the Garlean’s eyes. “You can go ahead and tell Biggs and Wedge if you think it wise. Telling the other Scions will have to wait until we can find them. If they are even still alive,” she finished, her tone bitter.

“I’m sure that they are,” Cid said, “and that we’ll find them in time. For now, get some rest. Take care of yourself; it’s no longer just you that depends upon you now.”

“Thank you, Cid,” T’lorna nodded as she settled back down into her bed. “I think I’ll do just that.”

Cid rose and carried his chair back to where it had been and then walked over to the door. By the time he reached it and glanced over at the Warrior of Light, she was sound asleep. With a soft smile, he sent a prayer to the Twelve for her and for her child before he quietly left the room.

~*~*~*~

The next morning T’lorna awoke feeling nauseous. However, a pot of tea next to her bed provided her with the strength to get up, get dressed, and sit quietly until her stomach settled. She thought she detected red raspberry leaf, peppermint, ginger root, lemon balm, and rose hips in the mixture. As she continued to sip at the tea, she felt strength returning and her stomach growing more settled. By the time the maidservants entered with a tray carrying a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, and more tea, T’lorna felt strong enough to do it justice.

She ate, washed up, and then dressed for the day. Heading down the stairs, she ran into Haurchefant who greeted her with a smile and a nod.

“I was just coming for you. Father, Aymeric, Estinien, and the rest are downstairs waiting for us to join them. It seems that much has happened in the past few days.”

“Indeed,” T’lorna said with a wry smile as she fell into step next to the Elezen. Together, they walked into the main sitting room where the others were gathered. Alphinaud blinked and jerked back at seeing her dressed in the widow’s clothing which Haurchefant had procured for her. Instead of her normal white mage robes, she was dressed in a comfortable set of robes woven with spells of shielding and protection but which were dyed dead black. Her arms were covered with long black sleeves and the neck of the dress brushed her chin. Her hands were covered with black leather gloves and her boots were stiff, shiny, and matched the rest of her outfit. Her long blonde hair had been tied into a neat bun and then covered with a black veil. Aymeric and Estinien glanced at her, their eyes widening slightly in shock, but said nothing.

“Praise Halone, you are well!” Edmont said, sounding relieved.

“Of course she is well,” Haurchefant laughed. “And, we bring the most wonderful tidings!” Without further thought, he relayed the news of Nidhogg’s demise, of the quelling of the riots, and of Iceheart leading her fellow heretics away under a sign of peace.

“The infamous Lady Iceheart, here in Ishgard? This is most unexpected,” Edmont muttered.

“She has done much to quell the violence,” Aymeric said in her defense. “The inquisition may not approve, but we are glad of her presence.”

“And, with the great wyrm’s demise, even our nation’s more reactionary elements will have scant grounds to press for her immediate impeachment,” the Count agreed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Aymeric nodded.

“What of the truth revealed to us by Hraesvelgr?” Alphinaud asked. “That the origins of the Dragonsong War – a core tenet of Ishgardian faith – are quite unlike those depicted in the scriptures.”

“That men and dragons once lived together in harmony, and that it was man’s treachery which shattered the peace and plunged our peoples into war,” Aymeric said slowly.

“The same scripture also describes the origins of the High Houses. Were it exposed as false, the legitimacy of our rule would be called into question,” Edmont pointed out. “If both highborn and lowborn can trace their ancestry to Thordan and his knights twelve…”

“But a single sip of dragon’s blood is required to confirm their lineage,” Alphinaud added.

Aymeric glanced down, his eyes somber. “If the Holy See knew of this and chose to remain silent, their crimes are grievous indeed. Regardless, this state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue.”

“Ser Aymeric, you cannot mean to raise this matter with the archbishop?” Edmont protested.

“Pray consider what you are proposing,” Haurchefant argued. “If the Holy See chose to conceal the truth for centuries, what reason would they have to reveal it now?”

“At best, you will be branded a heretic and clapped in irons!” Alphinaud said. T’lorna shook her head – did the young Elezen want the truth to come out or not?

“Then at least the archbishop will have shown his true colors,” Aymeric said firmly. “My friends, this war will never truly be at an end until the truth is made known. You must see what lies on the horizon if it is not. When ruled by fear of a common enemy, we were united. But now we have none. During the war, the highborn needed men to lead, and the lowborn, men to follow. Not anymore. ‘Tis but a matter of time before the old order is called into question. Lady Iceheart will share the truth with her followers, and the Holy See will be powerless to stop its spread. The disenfranchised will rise up, united, and blood will flow in the streets once more…” With that, Aymeric walked to the doors that lead out of the house. He paused in front of them and said, “A divided Ishgard will not survive.” With that, he left.

The rest of those gathered stood in silence for several minutes, considering Aymeric’s words and his bravery. Finally, Lucia, his most trusted comrade, spoke towards the doors.

“Tread carefully, Lord Commander…”

“My lady,” Alphinaud asked her, “is it wise to let him go? I sympathize with the lord commander’s desire for reform, but to approach the archbishop in this manner bespeaks an idealism to which I did not think Ser Aymeric prone.”

“Though he comports himself as a realist,” Lucia explained, “he has long dreamt of reform. ‘Twas that idealism which first drew me to him – that which made me swear an oath to serve. We must not think of ways to hinder his cause but rather ways to aid it – even should the Holy See cry heresy.”

“You cannot mean…” Alphinaud gasped.

“If the lord commander does not return from the Vault at the appointed hour,” Lucia promised, “I mean to go and fetch him.”

“Have care, my lady,” Edmont cautioned her, “your words border on treason! Should they reach the wrong ears, you would be declared an enemy of Ishgard!”

“That is a risk I am willing to take. Lest you forget, my lord – I am not born of this land. My loyalty is to the lord commander alone. But I speak only of what may come to pass. If the rumors regarding his heritage are to be believed, we have naught to fear.”

“Hmph!” Estinien snorted. “Lies and slander.”

“Forgive me – what rumors are these?” Alphinaud asked.

“That Ser Aymeric is the archbishop’s bastard son,” Lucia replied evenly. “Senior clergy are not permitted to marry and sire children. But even the holiest among us are not immune to temptation.”

“I labor to believe it,” Alphinaud said softly. “Ser Aymeric is truly the archbishop’s son?”

“He has never been publicly acknowledged as such,” Lucia continued, “but the rumors have plagued him since childhood. That he rose to his current position, despite being despised as a bastard, and accused of profiting from his father’s influence, bespeaks the quality of his character. It is my hope that on this occasion, the burden of his birth will work in his favor. Should our worst fears be realized, the archbishop will not be so quick to execute his own flesh and blood, affording us time to mount a rescue.”

“Bastard or trueborn,” Estinien growled, “he is our nation’s best hope. If the Holy See dares to threaten him, I shall lead the charge against the Vault myself.”

“Hear, hear!” Haurchefant agreed. “The future of Ishgard rests on Ser Aymeric’s shoulders! I too will do mine utmost to aid his cause!”

“Haurchefant, be reasonable,” his father pleaded.

“A knight lives to serve, Father – to aid those in need! The people need Ser Aymeric – more than ever – and we may be his only hope! There is no greater calling for a knight than to save the life of his fellow man. I swear to you, on the sigil of our house, that I shall do this and make you proud.”

Edmont glanced up from his son and cast his gaze upon the Miqo’te standing next to Haurchefant. T’lorna nodded in agreement with her friend and Edmont sighed. “Even you?” he asked softly. “Romantic, reckless fools, the lot of you. So be it – make your preparations.”

~*~*~*~

_Dearest Raha,_

T’lorna sat staring at the empty page for a long while, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to figure out how she would record the events of the day. The words, for once, would not come. They seemed to be lodged in her chest, her throat, choking her until she felt as if she could not bear to breathe for the pain.

 _Everything seemed so bright this morning. Was it only this morning?_ she wrote, blinking the tears back as her pen flew across the page. _We met and discussed our plans and then Aymeric left to try to force his father, the archbishop, to spread word of the truth of the Dragonsong War. After he left, we made our own preparations…_

She closed her eyes and leaned back, remembering. The preparations had not taken long to make. Realizing quickly that they would need more than just the handful who had already volunteered, T’lorna and Alphinaud had ventured out into the streets to search out others who might support their efforts. Some, such as Gibrillont, the proprietor of the Forgotten Knight, offered helpful information that steered them to the right channels. Another, a half-Hume, half-Elezen woman named Hilda who led a band of outcasts and misfits, offered aid against the Temple Knights. No sooner did they secure her help than one of the Temple Knights entered the tavern and attacked, dragging them into a street brawl that, but for Lucia’s quick intervention, might have sparked a riot.

Then word came that Aymeric was being held as a heretic and traitor within the Vault.

Obtaining entry to the Vault was not difficult – nearly half of the Temple Knights had remained loyal to Aymeric while the other half kept their devotion to the archbishop. Still, it had been a difficult series of battles…

~*~*~*~

The Vault, with its high, vaunted ceilings and archworks, was a masterful display of Elezen art and engineering. The heavy, choking odor of incense hung thickly in the air. The air itself was chilly, the high ceilings and wide-open spaces of the cathedral offering no protection from the bitter cold that permeated all of Coerthas.

With Haurchefant leading the group and Estinien and Alphinaud just behind him, T’lorna followed as they pressed their way through the cathedral. Dozens of knights and priests tried to bar their path but, between the four of them, the warriors made short work of those who would stop them from freeing Aymeric.

Through the lower floor of the cathedral, they fought their way. After nearly ten minutes of non-stop fighting and running, the four finally reached the great curving stairway that led up to the inner sanctums.

“Why are we going up instead of down?” Alphinaud asked as they stopped to catch their breath at the base of the stairs. “Certainly Aymeric would be held in the dungeons, would he not?”

“Aye,” Estinien agreed, “he’ll be in the dungeons. But ‘tis the Archbishop we must hope to catch first. If the Archbishop frees Aymeric, it will be much less bloody than if we must fight our way down and free him ourselves.”

“With the Archbishop behind us,” Haurchefant added, “there is also less chance that some enterprising knight will take it upon himself to kill the Lord Commander as we fight our way to him or try to fight our way out.”

“But the Archbishop is the one who imprisoned him!” Alphinaud protested.

“Yes,” T’lorna agreed, her eyes hard and glinting like icy sapphires, “but a sword at a man’s throat has a wonderful way of helping him re-prioritize his life.”

“There is that,” Haurchefant chuckled. “My, your condition has made you fierce, my dear. Remind me not to upset you for the next few moons.”

“Condition?” Alphinaud yelped. “What condition? T’lorna, are you well? Do you need to rest?”

“I’m fine. Leave it for now,” she muttered. “We’ve got a battle or three to fight.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna’s words had proven prophetic. No sooner had they mounted the stairs than they found themselves face-to-face with Ser Adelphel Brightblade, one of the stalwart knights of Ishgard and the Holy Faith.

“I trust you know your lives are forfeit!” he shouted as he and his deacons rushed to attack. Haurchefant moved quickly, closing with the knight while Estinien whirled, his lance flashing in the light, rounding on the deacons. T’lorna threw shields around Haurchefant and then focused on helping Estinien and Alphinaud finish off the deacons quickly so that they could all press their attention on the knight of Ishgard.

However, when the last deacon fell, Adelphel drew on their spiritual energies and transformed himself into a towering monster. In his new form, he stood nearly twice as tall as Haurchefant and his body was scaled in size to be proportionate. The knight, garbed now in dark armor, swung wildly. T’lorna winced in sympathy as she watched Haurchefant bring up his shield to block Adelphel’s strikes. The fact that the silver haired Elezen was not driven into the floor by the force of the blows earned T’lorna’s respect. She knew that she herself wouldn’t have been able to shrug off the strength of those blows so easily.

Adelphel’s form gave him abilities that kept the four on their toes. Without warning, he would dart from one side of the arena to another, ignoring Haurchefant and focusing on one of the other three. T’lorna and Alphinaud were both quick to dodge out of his way but Estinien would take the opportunity to leap, at the last second, high into the air and come down, slamming his lance into Adelphel’s shield. Large and heavy though it might have been, the shield did not hold up long under the constant rain of Haurchefant and Estinien’s attacks. When it finally splintered and shattered, Adelphel tossed it away and began making use of his spellcraft to try to overcome his attackers. Bright orbs filled with holy energy sprang up around the arena. They exploded, sending out waves of painful energy across the four fighters. Quickly, T’lorna and the others learned to move away from the orbs while dodging Adelphel’s lunging attacks.

The battle lasted for five long minutes before the knight, exhausted and wounded nearly to death, was forced to withdraw with a groan.

“Just as Ser Charibert said,” he muttered as he made his escape in a flash of white light.

T’lorna let her legs go out from under her as she struggled to catch her breath. Haurchefant and Estinien took the opportunity to drink from their water canteens and Alphinaud wavered, indecisive. The young Elezen did not seem to know if he should try to mask his weariness like the elder two or if he should follow the Warrior of Light’s example and catch what little rest he could. He did not waver for long. Once T’lorna had caught her breath, she hoisted herself to her feet, threw a few minor healing spells on the other three, and then motioned for Haurchefant to continue on up the stairs.

“We can’t sit around forever,” she growled. “We have to get to the archbishop.”

~*~*~*~

There were no further breaks in the battles as the four fought their way through the cathedral. Animated chess pieces, more deacons, spiritual warriors, all sought to block their path. Ser Grinnaux and Ser Charibert tried to bar their way to the archbishop. The leader of the church himself had caught wind of their plans – not that such was difficult given the ruckus they kicked up – and was fleeing for safety.

“Our power,” Ser Charibert panted as he collapsed from the lengthy battle. “How can this be!?”

The doors to the sanctuary behind him opened and Ser Adelphel stepped out. “Fall back!” he ordered. T’lorna and the others started to run after Charibert but an airship flew overhead, drawing their attention. Glancing at each other, the four began to run with all the strength and speed left them, through the sanctuary and out the back, down the long airbridge to the ship that would ferry the archbishop away, taking with him any hope of freeing Aymeric without causing a riot. The archbishop himself was at the end of the long marble path, moving with stately dignity as if he had not a care in the world. Charibert stood just to his right flank, a vigilant knight protecting his liege.

T’lorna paused, grimacing angrily. She did not know if they would be able to stop the archbishop. Growling to herself, she turned to ask the other four and spied Aymeric and Lucia walking through the sanctuary. Aymeric limped and held himself as if bearing up under injury but still managed to look every inch the Lord Commander. He brushed past T’lorna, his gaze fixed on the archbishop.

“Father, please!” he called out.

“We were not too late, my friend!” Haurchefant cheered.

“Why must you do this, Father!” Aymeric pleaded to the archbishop’s back. “Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path – to start anew!”

“And tear down the very pillars of our society – our history, our values – everything we have built over a thousand years?” the archbishop retorted. “A fool to the last,” he snorted.

T’lorna glanced at Haurchefant. The silver haired Elezen nodded. The archbishop would not escape! Together, they ran down the walkway as the archbishop began climbing the steps up to the airship.

Haurchefant sensed the attack before T’lorna. Ser Zephirin stood on one of the sills of the sanctuary. Using the powers granted him, he summoned a blazing spear of energy and threw it at T’lorna.

“Look out!” Haurchefant shouted as he put himself between T’lorna and the bolt. He raised his shield, blocking the strike. T’lorna stood in his shadow, her eyes wide with shock. Adelphel did not let up, though, and sent more energy into the spear of light, shattering Haurchefant’s shield. The Miqo’te watched in horror as the blazing blade went through Haurchefant’s body. His blue eyes widened in shock and he coughed up great gobs of blood from the wound. He collapsed on his back, a glowing, gaping hole through his chest and scarlet streamers gushing from his mouth. The blade itself vanished; its power spent.

T’lorna knelt down and gathered Haurchefant in her arms. She tried to weave her healing magic, but the power of the blade blocked her every attempt to close the horrible gaping wound. She stared into Haurchefant’s face in horror, tears springing to her eyes.

“Lord Haurchefant!” Aymeric shouted as he limped over and knelt down next to the dying man.

Carefully, tenderly, T’lorna cradled Haurchefant’s head in her arm and brushed his silver hair out of his eyes. He smiled at her, a heart-breaking smile of tenderness.

“You… you are unharmed?” he panted, his breath coming in short, pain-filled gasps. “F-forgive me… I could not bear the thought of… of…”

“I’m fine,” T’lorna said, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Y-your… child…” Haurchefant gasped. “I would… have liked to have… known him. Tell him… of me… my friend?”

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll tell him how you saved him moons before he was born.” Her chin began to quiver as the tears continued to stream, unabated, down her face.

Haurchefant lifted a trembling hand and wiped away the tears. Cradling her cheek with his hand, he smiled at her. “Oh, do not look at me so,” he begged. “A smile better suits a hero…”

T’lorna gritted her teeth to keep her chin steady and forced her lips into a smile. It was not a happy smile but it carried the warmth she felt for the Elezen man who had worried for her, taken her into his home, and stood for her when she had few friends left in the world. Haurchefant stroked her cheek once more before his head lolled on her arm and his hand fell away.

“Halone guide your steps,” T’lorna said just before she broke down sobbing over the body of her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been stricken with strep throat all week so I did not get much writing done. However, they're closing schools where I am until April 17th so I should have more time to get caught up since I'll be posting work from home (I think -- I wouldn't put it past the administration to demand we all come sit in meetings all day).


	18. A Pain Without Cease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we start dealing with the fallout of Haurchefant's death. The next couple of chapters are going to be a bit of a rollercoaster ride but I promise they will be worth the highs and the lows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna walked with the others as they carried Haurchefant’s body back to his father’s house. She could not speak. Her throat was tight with grief and she felt as if her heart were shattering in her chest. She did not love Haurchefant as she loved the man she’d married. But she _did_ love the Elezen in her own way. He’d offered her protection, friendship, and devotion. When he’d discovered she was carrying a child, he had offered her his hand to keep her child safe.

“Should I have wed with him?” she wondered. “Would he yet live had I accepted his offer?”

With a sad sigh, she realized that Haurchefant would have died no matter what she had agreed to. He had been devoted to her. He had been willing to lay down his life to protect hers. Even had she not been the Warrior of Light, he would have counted it an honor to give his life to save hers. Shaking her head and blinking back the tears, she followed the others as they carried his body up the stairs and into his father’s house.

Alphinaud had beaten her there. Haurchefant’s half-brothers stood in the middle of the great sitting room, gazing off into the distance. His father, Lord Edmont, stood in front of one of the huge windows, staring listlessly out upon the city streets. His jet-black head hung with his chin nearly touching his chest and he leaned heavily on the ornamental cane he carried. As she walked into the sitting room, the others turned to face her. Squaring her shoulders, she started to walk up to Lord Edmont as Estinien, Lucia, and Aymeric laid Haurchefant’s corpse upon a great table in the middle of the chamber.

T’lorna walked over to the window, wanting to give her condolences to the grieving count but Edmont cut her off before she could speak.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Please. A knight lives to serve. To protect. To sacrifice. There is no greater calling. Leave me to mourn, and give chase. For my son, and for the nation he loved. Go.”

“His sacrifice shall not be forgotten,” Alphinaud promised, his own voice soft and pitched low.

“My… son…” Edmont gasped as his legs gave out and he knelt, his head bowed and his body shaking with his grief. T’lorna bowed her head and stepped out of the room, returning to her chambers. Alphinaud followed her, leaving the family to mourn in their own way.

“I could not stand there in silence,” Alphinaud said in a whisper as he followed T’lorna out and up the stairs. “But…”

“When all others had forsaken us,” T’lorna muttered as she pushed open the doors to the room. “Haurchefant took us in. He was our beacon of hope in a world of darkness. He did his utmost to raise our spirits, so that we might face our troubles with courage and conviction. So that we might face them as _knights_ ,” she said, her voice cracking as the tears she’d held at bay began streaming down her face again. T’lorna walked over to her bed and sat down so that she could pull her knees up, wrap her arms around her legs, and bury her face in her knees as she wept.

Alphinaud shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, uneasy. He did not know what to do. Normally T’lorna was stoic and stalwart. He had never seen her emotions get the better of her. But then, he had never seen her grow so close to anyone outside of the Scions as she had to Haurchefant. Before he could say another word, however, the door to her room sprang open and Estinien, Aymeric, and Cid walked in. The three men looked sorrowful as they stood near the fireplace, not quite as ill-at-ease as Alphinaud but clearly all three wishing the circumstances were different.

“T’lorna,” Aymeric said softly as he limped over to the bed. Estinien muttered and grabbed one of the chairs from near the fireplace and set it near where T’lorna lay. Aymeric sat down while Estinien grabbed another chair for Cid before leaning against the wall near the headboard. “T’lorna,” Aymeric repeated. “We know how you feel but tearing yourself up like this is not good for you right now. Especially not in your condition.”

“Condition?” Alphinaud asked. His blue eyes grew wide with worry and concern. “What’s wrong with T’lorna?”

“She’s going to have a baby,” Cid said calmly. “Estinien and Aymeric heard what Haurchefant said and Count Edmont confirmed it. I was called in to attest to the validity of her marriage and, believe me, it’s no surprise that she’s pregnant considering how thoroughly she and her husband enjoyed their time together.”

“Master Garlond,” Aymeric said warningly. “Such language has no place in a house of mourning even if the words are well-intended.”

“I’m an engineer,” Cid shrugged by way of apology, “not a diplomat. Still, point taken.”

“T’lorna’s pregnant? She’s going to have a baby?! Married? When? Who? How?” Alphinaud asked, his voice increasing in pitch with each question. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” she said, dragging the word out as she forced herself to lift her face from her knees. “I am married, and I am pregnant. I met and married a scholar named G’raha Tia while working with Cid and the Sons of Saint Coinach to excavate and explore the Crystal Tower in Mor Dhona.”

“Did he die during the expedition?” Aymeric asked softly. “Or in the days since? I’ve noticed that you wear widow’s weeds as if you are in mourning.”

“He’s not dead. Not exactly,” Cid answered for her. He kept his gaze on her face and shivered slightly as he watched her crumble and begin weeping silently. “G’raha was the last of the Allagan royal bloodline. He was the last person able to open and control the Crystal Tower. Knowing that the technology and knowledge contained within it was too powerful for the world as it is now, he decided to seal the Tower back up and place it in a state of suspended animation until such a time as the world was ready for its wonders.”

“That sounds like a wise idea,” Aymeric nodded.

“However, since he feared that, if his bloodline was lost, there would be no way to ever control the Tower, G’raha sealed himself up in it. So,” Cid sighed, “he’s alive but not in the sense most people would think.”

“But T’lorna is carrying his bloodline now,” Estinien said softly, his gaze focused on the Miqo’te. “So, her child could just go and open…”

“No!” T’lorna growled through her tears. “I will not go against Raha’s wishes and open the Tower prematurely. I will not have my child used as a pawn to gain access to technology that could be dangerous for those of us too ignorant to use it wisely.”

“Too ignorant to even understand how and why it works,” Cid agreed. “G’raha hoped that, in time, society would reach the same height as Allag and would do it by taking the same path of study and research the Allagans took.”

“He also hoped that we would learn the lessons that the Allagans did not and not find ourselves so ready to risk everything for power,” T’lorna sniffled.

“So that is why you are wearing widow’s weeds,” Aymeric sighed. “I assume that Haurchefant got the story out of you and that was how he was able to register your marriage here in Ishgard?” T’lorna nodded. “I’m surprised he didn’t just offer to marry you himself. He was quite taken with you even if you are not Elezen. In a way, that would have been simpler…”

“He did offer to marry me,” T’lorna sobbed. “But I couldn’t marry him. He’s not Raha. I cared for him,” she wept. “He was my _friend_. But I didn’t love him.”

“That’s understandable,” Estinien muttered. “The real question is why you took the field in your condition.”

“Because there is no one else,” Cid answered for her. “She’s the Warrior of Light. She’s the Chosen of Hydaelyn. Sure, maybe some of the Scions could stand in for her from time-to-time but of the Scions, only Alphinaud and Tataru are here. The others are missing or unsuitable for combat. No,” he added when T’lorna started to speak. He kept his gaze fixed on the men, “I am not blaming you, but I will also not allow you to rake her over the coals for doing what she had to do. Instead, perhaps we should consider ways to help her and keep her safe while she does what she must. Just keep in mind that reality and her destiny may not be ready to give her a vacation from battles just because she’s carrying a child.”

“I wish to the gods that we had not taken the field today even if it meant risking you, Ser Aymeric,” T’lorna sighed. “I wish that I had sensed that blasted knight. I wish that I knew a spell of shielding that would have protected Haurchefant. I almost wish that he had just let that blast hit me instead of sacrificing himself to protect me…”

“Nonsense!” Aymeric protested. “Haurchefant would have protected _anyone_ in your place. True, he cared for you deeply and, from what he said, he wanted very much for you and your child to survive beyond him. Had you died in his place; I doubt that Haurchefant would _ever_ have forgiven himself. He might very well have torn the Crystal Tower down just to wake your husband and offer to let G’raha take his life in recompense for the two he had lost. Besides, my foolishness is why you were there in the first place. That puts me in your debt, my friends.”

“Your wounds have been treated?” Alphinaud asked quietly.

“Some wounds do not heal,” Aymeric replied softly, sadly. He bowed his head and drew in a gusty breath. Just then, T’lorna felt her head begin to throb as the Echo washed over her. She saw Aymeric standing before the archbishop, arguing passionately.

“The founding, the scriptures – a thousand years of lies – all to deceive the common man! Nay, our own brothers and sisters – for the blood of the knights twelve flows within _all_ our veins! You knew this to be true. You knew and you concealed it!” the Lord Commander accused his father.

Thordan sat calmly in his chair. His long white beard hung down his chest to his waist and no hint of surprise or anger sparked in his rheumy eyes. “I should be interested to hear how you came by this knowledge,” the archbishop said calmly. “But yes, you have the right of it. The architects of Ishgard, King Thordan and his knights twelve, entrapped and butchered the great wyrm Ratatoskr, that they might partake of her eyes, and thereby transcend their mortal limits. Upon learning of their treachery, Nidhogg was consumed with a murderous – and justified – rage. I daresay you know what followed…”

“The great wyrm slew the king and half of his knights,” Aymeric repeated, agreeing with the catechism he had been taught as well as the truth he had learned.

“Aye…” the archbishop sighed. “But Nidhogg was subdued, and his eyes plucked from their sockets by the knights that remained. Their one mistake was to show mercy, for from his brother Hraesvelgr did Nidhogg receive a new eye, thus rejuvenating his form and empowering him to embark upon an eternal quest for vengeance.”

“Whilst Thordan’s son Haldrath took one of Nidhogg’s eyes and learned to wield its power in defense of his people,” Aymeric said flatly.

“Thus was the first Azure Dragoon born,” the archbishop agreed. “And ever since that time, his honored successors have risen to drive Nidhogg from our lands whenever the wyrm has returned to plague us. I ask you, my son: will you answer for my sins? Will your son and his son answer for me as well?”

“What do you mean?” Aymeric asked slowly.

“If a man cannot atone for his sins in the course of his all-too-fleeting life, must his progeny then be held to account? Must every subsequent generation be judged as well?” the archbishop asked. Aymeric looked away, unable to answer. “Thordan’s betrayal of Ratatoskr was an unconscionable, unforgiveable sin,” the archbishop continued. “Should we, then, as his descendants, meekly surrender ourselves to an eternity of punishment? Nay, say I. I would not see our children sacrificed in a vain attempt to appease an implacable foe. Dragons are not like us, my son. To they who live forever, the wrongs of antiquity are as those of yesterday. No reparations shall ever suffice. This fact alone should serve as ample justification for our actions, yet some refuse to see it as such. For men like you, who yearn to commit themselves to a nobler cause, a more compelling narrative is required.”

“This is your solution?” Aymeric asked, aghast. True, he understood how difficult it would be to parley terms of peace with the immortal dragons. He knew well how hard-won any peace would be. But to continue the lies? “This is how you protect our people? You have given us a _lost_ cause! A death sentence! With your compelling narrative,” he spat, “you but doom our countrymen to give their lives for a lie!”

“And they do so gladly,” Thordan argued. “Highborn and lowborn alike are proud to serve – to fight and die for their country. And what would you say to them? What would you tell the wives who have lost their husbands, the mothers who have lost their sons? That their loved ones died for naught?”

“I…” Aymeric faltered. What _would_ he tell them? How could he break news of the truth to his people without destroying his very nation?

“Over the course of a thousand years,” the archbishop explained, “countless men have donned these robes, and every one of them came to accept the necessity of this solution. Once, I hoped you might come to accept it as well.” With that, the archbishop rose from his seat and walked towards the rear exit of his private sanctum. “Do not despair, my son. Soon I shall free us from the sins of antiquity,” he promised, “and bring about the change you so fervently desire.” He rapped the butt of his staff of office against the floor, summoning a pair of knights – Zephirin and Adelphel – to flank his son. “If he has spoken with others, I would have their names,” the archbishop said to the knights, his back still turned on his son. “Escort him to a cell and question him – thoroughly.”

“Your Eminence,” Ser Zephirin replied. Aymeric made a move as if he would go after his father but Zephirin drew his great sword and blocked the Lord Commander from taking a single step forward.

With that, the Echo-vision ended and T’lorna found herself staring at Aymeric in horror. The tears she had shed for Haurchefant had dried on her face.

“So this is the power of the Echo,” Aymeric said softly. “Would that it had shown you a finer moment from my past. ‘Twas an exercise in futility, as you saw. Face with the firmity of his conviction, and his many ready rejoinders, my words deserted me. To be frank, I am embarrassed to recall it.” In brief words, the Lord Commander relayed the memory T’lorna had witness to the others.

“A friend,” Alphinaud whispered, sharing a glance with T’lorna, “once impressed upon me the importance of differentiating between words, deeds, and beliefs. Were he here, I suspect he would judge your father’s “conviction” to be no more than rank, self-serving delusion. Even so, I cannot help but wonder what manner of ‘change’ he intends to bring about.”

“I have given some thought to that as well,” Aymeric nodded. “During the battle within the Vault, the Heavens’ Ward demonstrated strange and unnatural abilities.”

“Aye,” T’lorna agreed, her eyes watering again. She swallowed hard, forcing her emotions back down for the moment. “The manner in which Ser Zephirin struck down Lord Haurchefant was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“The spectacle called to mind King Thordan and his knights twelve as they are depicted in scripture – holy powers and all,” Aymeric said.

“Mere fabrications… which have become objects of faith… instilled with the belief of countless devoted souls…” Alphinaud said slowly.

“Seven hells!” T’lorna shouted as she and Alphinaud reached the same conclusion.

“If Lady Iceheart can use her own body as a vessel for summoning, I see no reason why others could not,” Aymeric agreed.

“Are the Heavens’ Ward truly so reckless?” Estinien asked.

“Unbelievable,” Alphinaud groaned.

“As they fled, my father spoke of Azys Lla. Though I know not what he intends, I fear no good shall come of it. His ambitions are too great, and his minions too powerful. We must find the Heavens’ Ward, and stop my father, before it is too late.”

“And here we started off this meeting chastising T’lorna for being reckless while pregnant,” Cid laughed mirthlessly. “Now you would have her go out and search for your father in a place none of us know anything about and face down a man who seeks to turn himself into a primal?”

“Not alone,” Aymeric said, “and certainly not without proper support. But yes, I, Aymeric, lord commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard, do hereby entreat the aid of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. I seek your aid in bringing the archbishop to justice. Too much blood has been spilled for the lies he perpetuated. No more.” With that, all gazes turned towards the room where Haurchefant lay with his family grieving for him as they prepared his body for the funeral rites.

“Life for death,” T’lorna growled, her ears flat against her skull with anger. “I will have Ser Zephirin’s heart for what he did to Haurchefant. I will pursue him to the end of the world if I must.”

“I know exactly what you mean, my friend,” Aymeric nodded.

“Much has changed since our order’s founding, but our duty to combat the primal threat has not,” Alphinaud added. “If the archbishop and the Heavens’ Ward are guilty of the crime of summoning, then T’lorna and I will stop them.”

“I will see that you do not go alone. I would not place such a burden on any one person – but most especially not a woman carrying a child,” Aymeric said. “I wish I could take the field with you, but I know that Ishgard will need me in the days to come. My father’s flight will throw our government into chaos.”

“You may ever count on my lance, Ser Aymeric,” Estinien said. “To my dying breath, I shall defend Ishgard.”

“I am certain that Lucia will join you as well,” Aymeric replied.

“You can count on the Ironworks to give aid as well,” Cid promised. “From what I know of Azys Lla, it’s another place filled with Allagan technology. Between the notes G’raha Tia left us and what we learned on our own during the expedition to the Crystal Tower, we should be able to contribute quite a bit. Once we figure out how to get there, of course.”

The group sat in silence for several moments. T’lorna lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes. She felt as if she could fall asleep easily now. She felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“…study more of the ruins in Mor Dhona. That should keep her safe until after the birthing,” she thought she heard Cid say.

“A wise idea. I would hate to risk her and her child needlessly,” Aymeric’s voice said. “If only there were a way to find the other missing Scions. Certainly, one of them could provide us some assistance.”

“I will speak to Urianger,” Alphinaud said softly. “Perhaps he…”

~*~*~*~

“She’s asleep,” Cid said, his voice low and soft. “You were saying about Urianger?” he added, glancing over to Alphinaud.

“Urianger might have some idea how to find the others,” Alphinaud explained. “And, even if he does not know how to do that, he knows…” the young man blushed and began to squirm. “He was there, serving my family, when my sister and I were born.”

“We have healers who are knowledgeable in childbirth, young Alphinaud,” Aymeric replied calmly. “Still, perhaps Lady T’lorna would be more comfortable in the hands of one she knows already. Therefore, yes, go speak to this Urianger and have him come here. I will write out letters of safe passage for you. Shall I include your sister as well?”

“I imagine that Alisaie will want to come visit T’lorna when she hears that the Warrior of Light is expecting,” Alphinaud nodded. “My sister greatly admires her as an example of what a woman can grow to become. But how did this happen?” Alphinaud stammered. “None of us knew she had a… a… a lover! How could she keep this from us? And how could she tell Haurchefant but not her friends? Not tell those of us who have known her for nearly two years now?”

“Don’t take it so personally, Alphinaud,” Cid said as he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the young Elezen with an air of amused affection. “She didn’t tell me, either. I imagine that the only reason she told Haurchefant is because he must have seen the signs and pressed her for an answer.”

“I myself wondered if she were pregnant while she traveled with us and Iceheart,” Estinien volunteered. “But it is, as ever, a woman’s prerogative to decide when and to whom she will share such news.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alphinaud asked, aghast. “You suspected she might be with child and let her risk…”

“I suspected but to suspect is not to know,” Estinien said evenly in his maddeningly calm manner. “I also knew the woman was under a fair amount of strain and dealing with a climate to which she is not at all conditioned. Any of those things alone could have caused her to be exhausted and nauseous. I’m not in the habit of thrusting myself uninvited in the personal affairs of those around me.”

“Still, it is clear that we will need to ensure that she and her child are well-protected,” Aymeric said softly, gesturing with his hands for the others to keep their voices low as well. “I know that Count Edmont will do what he can but, for our part, no more sending her off on risky quests until she has given birth. I will order a small contingent of knights and irregulars to keep an eye on her when she must venture out into the field.”

“And I’ll track down her Free Company. I imagine that her brothers and sisters in Valhalla will have something to say about her risking herself needlessly,” Cid offered. “And, did I know where her people kept their homes, I’d send word to her father. Any father worth the name would do whatever it took to keep his daughter safe when she was vulnerable.”

“Then we’re agreed?” Aymeric said, glancing at each man and receiving a nod in turn. “For the next several moons, we will keep her busy with researching Allagan artifacts either here under the roof of Count Edmont or in the field in Mor Dhona. We will let this Urianger know of her condition in case he can provide assistance. And, we will work on tracking down the missing Scions. Only if T’lorna’s presence is absolutely necessary will we allow her out in the field and, even then, under guard from my men and from her fellows in this Valhalla.”

“I can agree to that,” Cid chuckled. “I’ll also do my best to light a fire under the Ironworks about getting that damned tower opened again. Romantic fool though he might have been, locking himself up to keep one sure key to controlling it safe, G’raha deserves to know that his bloodline is going to continue.”

“How could he bear to leave her?” Aymeric wondered. “I’ve never loved a woman enough to pledge my life to her, but no husband I know who cares for his wife deeply would ever seek to be parted from her. Who is this G’raha Tia that he would leave T’lorna?” All eyes turned to Cid. The Garlean closed his own eyes and thought for several minutes before answering.

“G’raha Tia was… _is_ an impetuous scholar from the G Tribe of the Miqo’te. He grew up in Ilsabard, in the shadow of Garlemald, but knew that his heritage stemmed from Allag. He joined the Students of Baldesion and earned some skill both as a scholar and an archer. He was sent to help the Sons of Saint Coinach and the Ironworks when we started excavating the Crystal Tower. There, he met T’lorna and, from the moment they lay eyes on each other, there was a definite attraction between the two. I remember watching them as they walked together to the Crystal Tower,” he said with a faint smile. “Their hands kept brushing against each other. When we broke through the shields guarding the Sentinels, G’raha picked T’lorna up in his arms and held her the way that men hold women they love. Honestly, I would not have been surprised had they become lovers that very night. However, G’raha continued to sleep in the men’s tent with the rest of us while T’lorna kept her own tent for study. Over the next weeks, the two grew increasingly close. Finally, after yet another night when G’raha woke up tripping over our gear to get to his own sleeping roll, we took a vote and decided that enough was enough. He and T’lorna clearly loved each other deeply and just needed a little _push_ to realize it. So, we sent him to sleep in her tent.”

“You mean you sent him to… to… you want them to…” Alphinaud blushed. Aymeric and Estinien grinned and Cid chuckled softly at the young man’s discomfiture. “But it isn’t decent!” Alphinaud protested. His voice was loud and high-pitched enough that T’lorna snorted and seemed about to wake up. The room fell silent for several minutes until the Miqo’te settled back down to a deep and restful sleep.

“You don’t know much about the Miqo’te, do you, Master Alphinaud?” Aymeric asked quietly. “Among them, breeding females are bred a few years after they enter womanhood. Non-breeding males are kept separated from the females. But the act of love is not a secret or a shame amongst them. They are the most openly sexual people in the world. For a woman to reach T’lorna’s age without having a lover is most unusual. And, considering that she and this G’raha Tia were attracted to each other, it would have been better for them to give in to it than to ignore it. Denying such things can have consequences to their health, as I understand it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Cid sighed. “But it was so obvious that the two were stupid in love with each other that we just wanted them to face it and deal with it. That’s why we sent him to sleep in her tent. And, it wound up working out for the best. The pair of them are both night owls who prefer to stay up all hours reading, talking, and studying. At least with the two of them sharing quarters, they were less likely to disturb those of us who need a full night’s sleep. At any rate, they still seemed nervous and jumpy for a while but then, shortly after Unei and Doga turned up that the pair of them seemed to relax. Some time between then and us being able to open the Tower, they must have realized how they felt about each other and started to do something about it. Still, I _was_ a little surprised when they came up to me just before we were to enter the World of Darkness and announced that they were married. That, I had not expected. Them to become lovers – that I was prepared for. Them to decide to make vows of eternal bonding to each other? Not so much. Still, it worked out well and they seemed quite happy. They even locked themselves in their chambers for nearly three solid days ‘enjoying’ their honeymoon. That shocked a few years off my life,” the Garlean laughed.

“What do you mean?” Alphinaud asked.

“They locked themselves in their chambers in the Crystal Tower,” Cid explained. “For one day, we did not care. After all, they were both exhausted after the battle. Why shouldn’t they spend some time resting? After the second day with no word, a few grew worried. They’d not sent for any food. By the morning of the third day, we were all nearly beside ourselves. So, I went up to check on them. What I heard was a couple thoroughly enjoying themselves. However, I had carried up food for them both. When they wound down their… activities… I knocked on the door. T’lorna came and opened it some minutes later. She wore only a loose shirt that did not cover the bruised and bleeding mark of teeth on her shoulder. A ‘Miqo’te thing,’ she called it,” he said, shaking his head in remembrance. “Well, she and G’raha emerged long enough to eat the food I brought up plus more. Then, the next thing I knew, T’lorna was setting off for the old camp near Saint Coinach’s Find and G’raha left us a letter to give to her when she returned. He shut himself up in the Tower, putting it into a state of suspended animation. I gave the letter to T’lorna, but she seemed unable to accept what had happened for a day. When she read it, she grieved. However, it was the kind of grief that indicated that, given time, she would be well. Honestly, I thought nothing of it – aside from worry over a woman losing the man she’d loved – until I heard she was carrying G’raha’s child.”

“But still, why did he lock himself away?” Alphinaud demanded. “If he loved her enough to vow to her, why leave her when he must have known she could be carrying his child?”

“As I said earlier,” Cid explained, “G’raha’s ancestry came from ancient Allag. The young man was obsessed with Allag. Based on what he told us before he placed the Tower in a state of deep slumber, he feared that the wonders contained in the Tower were too much, too advanced, for the world as it currently is. He did not want to risk losing his wife to the disasters that could spring from such advanced technology falling into hands too ignorant to use it safely. He loves T’lorna,” Cid sighed, “and from that love sprang a desire to see her safe, even if it meant sacrificing his and her happiness. He would rather see her depressed but alive instead of happy but with her life cut short due to the ‘gifts’ of his ancestry. I don’t think he ever stopped to consider that she might bear his child. He feared that his bloodline would be lost and, with that, the ability to control and keep in check the Tower itself. That is partly why he locked himself away – to ensure that, once the world had matched the technology of ancient Allag, there would be the means to control the Crystal Tower and keep it from endangering the people.”

“Partly why?” Aymeric asked curiously.

“Understand that this is pure speculation on my part,” Cid sighed. “But, from the first, I sensed a… desire for the dramatic from G’raha. He had studied history and read so many legends for so long that he considered the thought of sacrificing himself a romantic notion. He viewed it as more of a story than stopping to consider the reality of it. Again, he would not have considered that T’lorna might need _him_. He would not have stopped to think that she would bear a child of his lineage.” He paused to let Alphinaud realize what he was driving at. “G’raha, like T’lorna, is young. He saw himself as a hero from a romantic story. He saw his sacrifice as part of a great romantic tragedy. But he did not see the messy truth. I don’t think anything we could have said or argued would have changed his mind. He was blinded by his own romance. However,” Cid sighed, “now that she has to live with the consequences, I imagine that T’lorna will be more clear-eyed and level-headed. She’s always struck me as a rational and even-keeled person for all that Hydaelyn has demanded of her,” he added, glancing over at the sleeping Warrior of Light. “It is now up to us to keep her safe from herself and to help her cope with her grief, her longing, and her situation. I, for one, will do whatever I must.”

“As will the rest of us,” Aymeric replied. “For now, let us leave her to her rest. Young Master Alphinaud, you may remain here with her in the trundle bed in case she needs anything. For my part, I have work to be about – especially if I am going to help protect her. Cid? Estinien?”

“I will seek out those with more news about Ayz Lla and Allagan,” Cid nodded.

“And I will check the rumors in every dark corner and smoky tavern,” Estinien replied.

“Good, then. Since her husband is absent and Haurchefant is gone,” Aymeric said, blanching slightly at the thought of a good friend being lost forever, “it is up to us to ensure that the Warrior of Light is safe and delivers her child with a minimum of risk. With that, I bid you good-day, gentleman.”

Within moments, only Alphinaud was left to watch over the sleeping warrior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding that I much prefer teaching via the Internet and not having to deal with my students face-to-face. I almost wish that we could stay doing distance learning forever. But, so far, it looks like everything will open back up in mid-April unless there is another spike.


	19. Children of the Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we start to deal with the aftermath and have a bit of an interlude for the next few chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna awoke the next morning with only a vague feeling that she had been the subject of some considerable discussion. Sitting up from her pillow and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she wondered if it had been a vivid dream or if she really had overheard Alphinaud, Cid, Estinien, and Aymeric plotting to keep her safe until she was delivered of child. Shaking her head and instantly regretting it, T’lorna swallowed hard and forced herself to her feet. Tottering on unsteady feet, she managed to reach the small table where she kept the medicinal tea and then over to the fire so she could start it on to brew and soon have her stomach settled enough to do justice to whatever breakfast the maid servants brought up. Sitting quietly as she waited for the small kettle to whistle, she thought back to what little she believed she had overheard.

“True,” she whispered silently to herself, “I am to be a mother. I carry within me Raha’s child. I would not needlessly risk that life for anything.” A fierce protective wave swept over her. “But I am the Warrior of Light. Does Hydaelyn herself care that I bear a child worth the lives of the world to me? Does the remote Mother Crystal know what it is like to be mortal, to be worried about the future generation? What will she demand of me and will I be able to face it or refuse it, knowing that the cost could very well be the lives of all whom I have come to know and love? And what would Raha say if I sacrificed the world to save our child?”

The thought of losing the child she carried made her heart ache and her belly knot up with fear. Cold sweat broke out on her palms, under her arms, her breasts, and along her forehead and upper lip. “No!” she gasped as she pressed her hands over her belly protectively.

“I will not sacrifice our child for anything. Though the Mother Crystal demand it, I will let the world burn before I will give up my baby! I will not let go of the only part of my husband, of my love, that I have left to me! This I swear!”

“T’lorna?” she heard Alphinaud ask, his voice thick with sleep. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” she replied just as the kettle began to whistle softly. Reaching over with a pair of tongs to pluck it from the fire, she opened the top and dropped in the sachet of herbs the healer had given her. Setting it back over the fire, she gave a slow count of one hundred before pulling it off again and setting it on a hot mat to cool while she searched for a porcelain mug. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Alphinaud muttered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. “I must leave you for a short while today. I would go, with your permission, of course, to tell Urianger of your condition.”

“I suppose he should know,” T’lorna said slowly as she watched steam curl out of the mug. “He is a healer. Perhaps he could be of use to me as the moons pass.”

“And perhaps you would want him there to help you during the time when you are… I mean to say that when you… well, in a few moons,” Alphinaud said in a rush, his cheeks blazing with color.

“Yes, he could be of use to me when I go to childbed,” the Miqo’te chuckled. “Are you Elezen so reticent to speak of that which is only natural?”

“It just isn’t decent,” Alphinaud protested. “Besides, I did not know you were… well that you… you know… that you had a husband. You never bothered to tell any of us.”

“That’s true,” T’lorna sighed as she blew a breath over the steaming mug. Lifting it to her face, she tested it. Finding it cooled enough, she gulped down the hot beverage and then closed her eyes, letting the tea settle her queasy belly. “It hurt to think about.”

“To think about what? Your marriage?”

“Yes. And to think about the fact that I will never see him again,” she sighed sadly. “Perhaps one day, Alphinaud, you will understand what it is to love someone so all-consumingly. To be willing to give up anything to be with them. To want nothing more than to wake up every morning and see their face across from yours. That is how I feel about my husband. But he gave me up. He gave up everything we could have had. He did it in the name of protecting me from a greater danger, but it changes nothing. He will sleep away the centuries until the world matches Allag once more. Perhaps, in time, his descendants through me will reopen the Tower and he will be faced with what he gave up,” she sighed. “But, through it all, I will be alone. I will never again know the comfort of his arms around me. I will never again go to sleep feeling his warmth at my back. Instead, I will have to pass the memory of that love on to my child and hope that it is enough. I will, in time, have to face the wrath of my own tribe when I take my child to be numbered amongst them. After all, I dare not travel to Ilsabard to seek out _his_ tribe. I have only a letter to prove I even knew him. Among our people, the written word is nothing. Only vows are important, and our vows were made in private. My own father,” she said sadly, tears stinging her eyes, “will harbor doubts about my child. Were I to return to him now, it would be as a woman shamed. After all, I am not one of the breeding females. My father always intended to find a husband for me since I am shaman-born. That I could not keep myself for that day will be a great source of shame and disappointment to him.”

“Now, I’m certain that’s not true,” Alphinaud said as he writhed in his small trundle bed. He had no idea how to comfort the older, wiser, more experienced, and more mature woman who now sat crying into her tea mug. “I’ll bet that your father will be delighted to be a grandfather!”

“Oh please,” T’lorna snorted. “He’s _already_ a grandfather about ten times over. My older sisters have given him plenty of granddaughters.”

“But he’ll love your child, nonetheless, won’t he?”

“Perhaps,” T’lorna sighed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Still, it would be better to wait until such a time as we can figure out how to open the Crystal Tower on our own. If Raha were with me, then my father would have no choice but to accept my marriage. So,” she sighed, fixing her gaze back on Alphinaud, “you’re planning to tell all of this to Urianger?”

“Not exactly,” the young Elezen sighed. “I think I may just tell him that you need to speak with him and use that to bring him here. After all, isn’t it your decision when and if to tell others about… you know… that you’re going to… _have a baby_?” he said in a rush.

“Relax, Alphinaud,” T’lorna sighed, too tired and too sad to tease the young man. “I just got married. I didn’t commit some great crime which you need to be ashamed of me for being part of. It’s just that I cannot return to my people yet. I will, eventually,” she said softly. “After all, my grandmother will not live forever, and I must see her before I can become the shaman of my tribe…”

“Shaman? What does that entail, exactly?”

“I will read the stars for the tribe,” T’lorna answered. “I will tell the omens. I will commune with the dead. When a new tribe member is born to one of my sisters, cousins, or aunts, I will cast the fates for them. When a Tia seeks to know if he should expand the tribal grounds or remain within the homeland, I will seek the spirits and tell him. My grandmother will pass her wisdom – the wisdom inherited from our ancestors since the days of the Great Ice and Snow – on to me. And, one day, I will pass that wisdom on to my child. The child born of ancient Allag, since it is like to be the only child I ever bear…”

“And that is what it means to be ‘shaman-born?’” Alphinaud asked. “And your child will be shaman-born just as you are?”

“Like as not,” she shrugged. “I…I doubt I shall ever wed again. Even if my father presented me with the perfect husband he had sought out from all of the tribes of the People, I would not wish to lay in another man’s arms. Raha was it for me. And, since he is gone, there will be no other children from me. It could be, that should this child not be shaman-born as I was shaman-born, one of my sisters’ or my brothers’ children will bear the signs. If so, I will pass the wisdom to them so that it might carry on until such a time as the world ceases to exist.”

“That sounds like a great burden.”

“Almost as heavy a burden as is being the Warrior of Light,” T’lorna joked. “Now, you wish to seek out Urianger? I assume because he has some experience with women – especially with women who have borne children?”

“He… he delivered my sister and I,” Alphinaud explained. “Out of all those whom I know, Urianger would know best how to… help you.”

“Very well, then,” T’lorna sighed. “Go to the Waking Sands and tell him. Besides, he and I share the bond of a love lost beyond saving. Perhaps it would not be so bad to have him on hand to talk to over the next few months. At the very least,” she added, “his studies and knowledge might prove of use to us as we probe the leavings of Allag in hopes of finding our way to this Azys Lla.”

“I wish I could say I understood,” Alphinaud whispered. “Still, you are right that Urianger could be of benefit to you. I will make my way to the Waking Sands at once to consult with him. I would ask that you remain here and continue to rest until I can return.”

“I’m not planning on going anywhere, Alphinaud,” T’lorna said with a touch of asperity. “I want to pay my respects to Haurchefant and do what I can to help Count Edmont with the preparations to see him buried with honors. After that… well… I will not risk myself needlessly. I’ve come to realize that this child is all I will ever have of my husband. I would not do anything to risk losing this child before it has a chance to draw breath.”

“Good,” Alphinaud said, sounding relieved. “We were all worried about that.”

“So, I didn’t dream it entirely?” T’lorna asked with a small smile of amusement. “I thought I drifted off to listening to you plot to keep me safe.”

“I think that ‘plot’ is not the right word,” the Elezen said defensively. “We are, of course, worried about you. We don’t want to risk you or your child needlessly. Therefore, for the next several moons, we will be doing more to help you stay safe.”

“I have no objections to that,” T’lorna nodded.

“Oh. Good. There was some fear that you might not take well to the idea that you need to be protected.”

“I’m the Warrior of Light, Alphinaud. I’m not a fool.”

“As you say,” the boy sighed. “Well then, I will go and get myself ready to venture to the Waking Sands. I should be back this evening. Hopefully with Urianger.”

“And I will be here all day,” T’lorna replied. “I will do whatever I may to help prepare Haurchefant’s body for burial and to pay my respects to him. After all,” she sighed wistfully, “I owe him my life and the life of my only child.”

“He said he would have liked to have gotten to know your child,” Alphinaud said slowly.

“And I vowed that my child would know of him and of his sacrifice,” T’lorna said fiercely. “And he shall. Leave me, now, Alphinaud. I wish to dress myself and then go do what I can to speed Haurchefant’s spirit on his journey.”

With that, the younger Elezen rose, bowed, and left the room quickly. T’lorna rose from her seat and quickly dressed and made her ablutions before leaving the room.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna made her way down to the main sitting room in the early morning gloom. Only a few servants were stirring. They had lit the fire in the great fireplace, set out scented candles against the stench of the decaying corpse, dusted the furniture, set out some light fruits both to sate the appetite and stave off the smell of decay, and then retired to clean the rest of the house and make other preparations as were needful. Bowls full of fresh cut flowers also helped to cut down the smell.

“Ah, Haurchefant,” T’lorna sighed as she walked over to the chair set at the head of the tableau where he lay. “My dearest friend in Ishgard. My dearest friend since my own husband locked himself away within the Crystal Tower,” she sighed. “I will miss you. You helped us when we most needed it. You brought us into your family’s house and protection. Without you, Alphinaud, Tataru, my baby, and I would be dead. How can I ever repay you the debt I owe?”

“He would not consider it a debt,” came Artoirel’s voice from the front entryway. “Pray forgive my intrusion,” he asked as he entered the great room and bowed politely to T’lorna. “I know that in recent years I have not been a true brother to Haurchefant,” he sighed as he scrubbed a hand through his dark-brown hair. “Ever did I view him as something of a rival, as a competitor, as one whose very existence demeaned my mother. Yet, in the end, he _was_ my brother. He was the son of my father. He never condescended to compete against me or against the true-born sons of the House. Instead, he gave his life over to protecting our House, to defending its reputation. Though base-born, he was my father’s truest heir.” Slow tears trickled down the younger Elezen’s cheeks. “I wish now that I could but wind back the clock and treat him as he truly deserved – as my brother. I wish I could tell him now and have him hear how important his example has ever been to me. I wish I could tell him that I learned much from watching him accept and fulfill his duty to our family and house without complaint. I even wish that I could tell him that I never once begrudged him anything – including the affections of the great Warrior of Light – and that I wished him only the best. Halone help me but I envied him for his valor, his courage, his steadfast devotion. I wished I could be him and, that by being him, find his existence erased so that our father doted on me as he did on the base-born son. But only now, too late, do I come to see that Haurchefant never once begrudged me my position or my birth. He truly did accept his lot in life and, through that acceptance, came to a peace and tranquility that I may never know myself. Ah, brother,” the brown-haired Elezen said as he knelt before the table and clasped the corpse’s hands in his own, “forgive me all my short-comings.”

“He had a big heart,” T’lorna said soothingly as she walked over and put a hand on Artoirel’s shoulder. “I am certain that he never held a grudge for how he was treated.”

“He did not,” the young man agreed. “And that, in its own way, makes it all the worse. My brother leaves large shoes to fill and I do not know if I will be able to live up to his example.”

“You will never be able to replace Haurchefant,” T’lorna said as gently as she could while still delivering a harsh truth. “But, you can honor his memory. You can honor his sacrifice. However, you will never be him. Your lives have been different – he was illegitimate and grew up under that cloud. You are the heir of your house and grew up under that light. Still, you can be a knight in the same vein as Haurchefant was. You can vow and dedicate your life to protecting the weak, to helping the helpless, to giving aid and succor to all who need it. Do those things and you will be as great as Haurchefant was in your own way.”

“Wisely said,” came Count Edmont’s voice from the hallway. “Listen to T’lorna, my son. She speaks the truth. I was proud of Haurchefant and will always have pride in him and his accomplishments. However, I am proud of you, as well. You will do well to take over the post at Camp Dragonhead in the days to come.”

“But Father,” Artoirel said in shock, “that was Haurchefant’s seat.”

“It belongs to House Fortemps and needs a member of the House to safeguard it. You will do well there and learn many of the lessons that helped your elder brother to become the man he was.”

“I will do my best, Father, to act as the administrator of Camp Dragonhead and prove myself worthy of such an honor.”

“I’m certain that you will,” the count said. “Now, I believe that our friend and ward would like a few moments alone with Haurchefant to pay her respects. After that, she will be retiring to her chambers to rest,” he added with a meaningful glance at T’lorna.

“Are you not feeling well, Mistress Zhiki?” Artoirel asked with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just pregnant.”

“I…I thought I had heard you say something about a baby,” Artoirel stammered as blood flooded his face. “Did you and…”

“No,” she said firmly with a slight wince. “I was married before I came to Ishgard. The child is my husband’s.”

“But the child will be a welcome addition to our House,” the count added quickly. “He will be a ward of the House just as is his mother. Indeed, my dear, I have come to think of you as the daughter I never had.”

“You honor me greatly, my lord,” T’lorna said a touch breathlessly. “I have come to think of you as a protector, as almost an uncle of my tribe. However, I have a father living and I would not replace him unless he disowns me for bearing a child without permission.”

“He would disown you for marrying and bearing a child?” the count asked in confusion.

“The ways of my people are not the ways of yours,” T’lorna sighed. “My father is the nuhn – the breeding male – of our tribe. Only nuhns are permitted to sire children and breeding females – of which I am not one – are the only ones allowed to bear them. My sisters and cousins will be wedded out to other tribes since we have a kinship taboo with the nuhn and those who are likely to become nuhn. However, I was not considered part of the pool of breeding females though my father always intended for me to be married and to bear children. He sought outside of the tribe for my husband but I married without his consent and without my husband undergoing the tests my father had set for him to prove his worthiness. So, if my father considers my husband unworthy of me, he may very well be forced to disown me and my child.”

“I doubt he will do any such thing,” Edmont said calmly. “But, if he does, know that you will always have a home here in Ishgard. Now, we will leave and give you some time to pay your last respects,” he added with a mournful sigh. “The attendants from the church will be here soon to finish preparing my son’s body for its final rest. The funeral will take place this evening and the burial will be tomorrow morning. Do tap on my door when you are done, my dear,” he asked. “I, too, would like some time alone with my boy.”

~*~*~*~

Late that evening, T’lorna found herself dozing atop the blankets on her bed. The day had been long and wearing for all that she had barely left the house – and only then to make the short trip to the cathedral for Haurchefant’s funeral rites. Still, she felt almost as exhausted as she had been after fighting her way through both the Castrum Meridianum and the Praetorium to rescue Thancred and stop the Garleans from their latest attempt to gain ascendancy over Eorzea.

“Haurchefant,” she whispered to his spirit, “I shall miss you dearly.”

Closing her eyes and laying on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, T’lorna let herself remember those last moments of Haurchefant’s life. She shuddered at the way his eyes went dim, the life and soul bleeding out of them as his life’s blood pumped out of the ghastly wound in his chest.

“A smile better suits a hero,” he gasped.

“Haurchefant!” she shouted, her heart pounding in her ears. With that, T’lorna’s eyes opened wide and she shivered, tears rolling down her face. “Haurchefant,” she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The funeral service had been something she had never imagined. The smoke of incense in the cathedral had been thick – nearly choking. The prayers and recitations had been long and overly formal. Several times, the heavy scents in the church had made T’lorna long to rush out of the doors and to inhale the clean, cold scents of Ishgard’s freshly fallen snow. Only her own strength of will had allowed her to remain within the closed chancel of the cathedral through the long and liturgically laden ceremony. The doleful hymns, the dirges, the lengthy prayers to Halone and reading of scripture – all of the ceremony seemed quite alien to the Mi’qote. Among her own people, a funeral was a brief set of prayers to the Huntress followed by a feast where memories and stories were shared and culminating in the body of the deceased being put to the pyre. Watching the ashes and smoke blow into the air until every last trace of the dead was gone offered a great deal of comfort. Among her people, only the widow or widower would keep any trace of the departed – usually in the form of a lock of hair.

She had, with permission, been given permission to take a lock of Haurchefant’s hair. Perhaps _that_ was part of what bothered her so much of late. She had no lock of hair from her husband to offer her the comfort of his physical memory. She had only her own memories. There was no token…

She twisted her fingers together and then her eyes snapped open as she felt her wedding band twist against her flesh. She held her left hand up to her face and gently touched the golden band. She could remember how it felt when Raha had slipped the ring onto her finger. She could remember the way his breath had felt against her face as he recited the vows that bound him to her. She could remember the sound of his voice, the scent of his living warmth, and the overpowering affection that had welled up in her heart as she recited her own vows.

A sudden lurch in her stomach made her smile even as she struggled against the nausea. It seemed she had two tokens by which to remember her husband. Placing her hands over her belly, she sighed and closed her eyes once more.

“I don’t know who you are yet,” she said softly, speaking to her unborn child. “I don’t know if you can hear me or if you are even aware of anything yet. But I do know this. I will protect you. I will no longer take risky ventures that could endanger us both. You are all I will ever have of my husband aside from the ring he gave me. In time, I will face down my father and demand a place for you in my tribe. I may even venture to your father’s tribe so that you can learn of him from those who knew him best. I’ll take you to the foot of the Crystal Tower and tell you every story of your father and your heritage that I know or will learn. And I will give you the space to make your own choices. You can be a warrior like your Uncle Haurchefant. You can be a scholar like your father and Uncle Alphinaud. You can be an enigmatic pain in the ass like your Uncles Thancred and Urianger. You could be a hunter like your grandfather or a wanderer like your mother. Whatever you want to do, I will back you up.”

With that, T’lorna snuggled back into her pillows and let herself drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how is everyone holding up with this pandemic? Remember, guys, we average one major global pandemic a century. Pandemics are just part of human existence. Take reasonable precautions, stay safe, but don't panic. Most of us will make it through this just fine.


	20. An Interlude of Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being late. I was laid up most of yesterday with a migraine. 
> 
> Anyhow, after a whole lot of action, it's time for a bit of peace and quiet and, of course, research!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna thought little of Alphinaud staying away from Ishgard over the next few weeks. She knew he was up to something and just assumed that it had to do with her pregnancy and his own squeamishness about the fact that she had another aspect to her life beyond just being the Warrior of Light. Instead, she devoted her energies to checking in on Ser Aymeric and his progress in healing from his ordeal. She also spent time sitting quietly with Count Edmont while he recounted stories of Haurchefant’s childhood and youth. Most of her evenings, however, were spent in study of Allag. She’d borrowed every book in Ishgard on the subject and sat reading them aloud and taking notes from them. She even read her notes aloud to her baby.

“After all,” she explained to her belly, “I don’t know how much you’ll remember of this and I’m certain I’ll have to explain it all again but, if nothing else, you’ll know my voice when you come out of me in a few moons.”

She noticed, with some amusement, how the men in her life had taken to addressing her stomach shortly after the end of her third moon of pregnancy. Alphinaud had been gone for several weeks and had left only a handful of messages to be passed on to her. Something about finding Y’shtola’s sister and then setting off to explore the Dravinian territory. Tataru had been by just about every single day to check in on her and the healers had made regular trips to the manor to check her progress. Aside from the slightly lessening nausea, there had been little to report until one morning, near the end of her third moon of pregnancy, she had gotten up and noticed a visible swelling in her belly. Her clothes seemed to fit tighter. Ignoring it as something more in her mind than in reality, T’lorna had continued about her day, drinking her specially blended tea before descending to take her place before one of the windows in House Fortemps’s sitting room. As she sat in the window seat, she had made her own, reading to her belly, she noticed that the men entering the room stared at her stomach for a lengthy period of time. Count Edmont actually drew a chair up to her and, plucking the book from her hand, started up reading from where she had left off.

The Elezen and the Mi’qote traded off turns reading with the servants coming to bring them tea to keep their throats from drying out until T’lorna finally, at last, begged off.

“My dear lord Edmont,” she asked as she, with his help, wrenched herself from her window perch, “what brought this on?”

“I remember,” the count of House Fortemps laughed, “nearly forty years ago when my mistress showed signs that my son Haurchefant was to be born. I could scarcely bear to leave her side. As she swelled with my son – illegitimate though he might have been, I felt a desire to be near him, to let him know that his father wanted to know him. Most nights I forced my way into his mother’s home so that I might read to him – books, letters, or even just reciting my own notes, thoughts, or poems. Well can I remember the day when he emerged from between his mother’s legs,” the count chuckled. “He entered this world with his mother’s silver-blond hair and my blue eyes. He didn’t cry when he came out. He just looked around in fascination at the strange place he found himself in. He grinned when he saw me and heard my voice. He didn’t cry out at all until several minutes later when the first pangs of hunger struck after the cord was cut. I watched him as he drank eagerly from his mother’s breasts. He looked so content, so happy. And, I swore to her then and there that, though she could not be my wife, our son would ever have a place in my house. When she died a few years later, I took him in. Oh, my wife hated it,” he sighed. “She never quite forgave me my infidelity to her though, when Haurchefant was born, I had not yet met her. She always felt that he threatened the positions of my trueborn sons. Still, I was there for all of them. I spent months speaking to them when they yet slept within their mother’s womb. I was there to see them enter the world. And, as they grew from baby to toddler, from toddler to child, from child to youth, and from youth into manhood, I was there. I would not have missed a moment of their lives could I help it. And I will not miss a moment of my grandchild’s life,” he added, reaching over to place a hand over T’lorna’s rounded belly.

“I will be honored to have you as my child’s honorary grandfather,” T’lorna said softly as she placed her own hand over the count’s.

“And what of your own father? Will you write to him or go to visit him soon to let him know that he is to be a grandfather?”

“That is a difficult question to answer, my lord,” T’lorna said slowly.

“How is it difficult?” Edmont wondered. “Had I a daughter of my own blood, I would be horrified if she did not tell me I was going to be a grandfather regardless of how she came to be with child.”

“Among my people, our rules on breeding are different. Only certain males and only certain females are allowed to have children. I have always been in a bit of a strange category for my father expected me to eventually marry and have children but he planned to put my would-be husband through a particular trial before he would permit the wedding to happen. Since I never told my father I had found a potential husband – let alone married him – that man never got my father’s approval for the wedding. Further, our vows were in private and just between us. The letter I showed Haurchefant was enough to prove the marriage and make it valid in your eyes but it would not be enough – let alone with the fact that G’raha never undertook my father’s trials – to satisfy my father. That means that I am bearing an unsanctioned child. Yes, there is a chance my father will not care and will accept my child into the tribe regardless but there is also a chance that the traditions of my people will force him to disown us both. I’d rather not put him in that position until I have had more time to think it through myself.”

“I see. Well, regardless of what you fear, I would still encourage you to tell him before you give birth. Give him the choice. And, if he is forced to put you out of the tribe, you always have a place here. I could even arrange to legally adopt you so that you and your child would be part of my family and my House officially – and not just as wards.”

“That is a great honor, my Lord,” T’lorna said with a sad smile. “However, I still need time to consider my next move. For the next few months, at least, I plan to keep myself confined to Ishgard or to regions I know are safe. I may travel to Mor Dhona to study the Allagan ruins there and bring some back here –- the portable kind – to study further and to conduct tests upon. The more we can learn about Allag, the better chance we stand of getting access to Azys Lla.”

“And the better chance you have of opening the Crystal Tower and waking your husband,” Edmont added. T’lorna stared at him in shock. “Aymeric and Alphinaud both tend to gossip a bit. I have overheard enough to put it all together myself. Well, my dear,” he chuckled, “do what you feel you must. However, I would appreciate it if, each evening, you could spare some time to come sit with me so that I might talk to my grandchild.”

“Of course,” T’lorna said with a soft smile.

~*~*~*~

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Cid demanded when he spotted T’lorna slowly dismounting her chocobo near the ruins of the Eight Sentinels. “Don’t tell me you rode here from Ishgard just for a change of scene.”

“Oof,” she groaned as her feet hit the ground. She placed a protective hand over her protruding belly as she patted her mount affectionately. “No,” she said, answering Cid’s questions. “I did not just come out here for a change of scene. However, with Alphinaud gone and Tataru pampering me and badgering me constantly, a change of scene _is_ welcome.”

“Then what brings you here in such a roundabout fashion?” the Garlean asked as he scanned about for something he could use as a chair for her.

“I came to test a theory on the ruins of the Eight Sentinels.”

“No.”

“Cid, using magic is not going to harm me or my child. Believe me – I’ve done enough experiments with aether on the gadgets you and the others have brought to House Fortemps over the past month and a half.”

“The last thing I need is someone who is carrying the heir to the Crystal Tower accidently setting off some device,” Cid groused. “Or even opening the Tower without knowing how she did it.”

“Oh, Cid,” T’lorna laughed, “do you think I would be able to open the Tower? It takes someone who is a full-blooded Allagan royal to do that. Not just the mother of one who _might_ be. I do, however, want to spend some time at the doorway by myself.”

“Not alone, no,” Cid said as he shook his head. “I will go with you. I’ll keep my distance but you are not going to wander these ruins alone. I’m not even certain I want you wandering them at all, truth be told. Jinpu, Syris, Lokira, and Geralin have been scouting the vestiges of the Labyrinth and they stumbled across several nasty little surprises. Luckily for them, they were able to deal with them quickly enough. I will not risk you stumbling across anything like that.”

“I have no plans to explore the Labyrinth at this time,” T’lorna said slowly but firmly. “However, I _do_ want to test a theory here at the Eight Sentinels and then I want to talk to Raha.”

“Talk to Raha?”

“I’m well aware that with the Tower being in stasis, he won’t hear me,” T’lorna said dryly. “So, are you going to let me do this without a fight? Or are you going to wrestle a pregnant Warrior of Light back onto her chocobo and _try_ to send her packing?”

“Oh, for the love of,” Cid laughed softly. “Fine. Conduct your tests. I’ll stay close to you in case you need anything.”

~*~*~*~

Walking through the ruins of the Eight Sentinels with Cid just a few feet away from her, T’lorna took a few moments to enjoy being out in the sun and fresh air without needing a heavy coat to stay warm. The fact that she was draped from head to toe in black helped a bit – had she worn her normal attire, even the late autumnal air of Mor Dhona, with all its bright sunlight glinting off the blue crystalline ruins of the Tower and the nearby lake would have been too chilly for her. She rubbed her slightly protruding belly fondly as she searched through the ruined statues for the device she sought. Though she was just barely four moons into her pregnancy, she fancied that she could feel her child fluttering within her womb. As she spied the device she had been searching for, she could have sworn she felt a lurching in her belly as if her child was just as excited as she was.

“What is that?” Cid asked as T’lorna squatted down with only a hint of her usual grace.

“It’s what I was looking for,” she explained. “According to my research, this device is a kind of aether detector. Most Allagan technology was built around recognizing specific kinds of aether. The Eight Sentinels used the most primitive kind of detection – elemental. That’s the easiest to replicate for us. However, they took it a step further in requiring a certain level of purity, intensity, and aetheric vibrations before the mechanisms would unlock. From what I’ve read, we overdid it by a fair margin which is why the Sentinels exploded and collapsed instead of just turning off the gates.”

“I see,” Cid mused as he rubbed his bearded chin in thought. “So, what you’re saying is that if we had known all of this in advance, we could have refined our keys so that we could re-initialize the locks if needed?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. What I’m wondering is if we can rebuild the Eight Sentinels and re-key them so that we can fashion our own keys and add some additional safeguards to ensure that _only_ the Ironworks or approved researchers could get into the Tower.”

“Wait. You want to put an additional layer of protection around the Tower?” Cid asked in confusion. “Isn’t G’raha’s putting it in stasis enough?”

“It probably is,” T’lorna said with a nod. “Still, let’s think a bit ahead.” Cid nodded and gestured for her to continue. “Let’s imagine that two or three centuries down the road, a power like Garlemald gains control of Eorzea. They have scientists, magitek, researchers… Why make it easy for them to get direct access to the Tower? Why not put up an additional barrier that we can get through but would stymie them? Beyond that, if we can rebuild the Eight Sentinels, then we could extend that technology and construct other fortresses that could help protect us against invasion or even against another Calamity.”

“That’s a fair point,” Cid conceded. “Biggs and Wedge said something similar but haven’t been having much success copying the mechanisms they’ve found.”

“Could be that part of the manufacturing process requires the use of thamaturges or other magi as part of it. That’s why I want to study this more.”

“Should I have it carted back to Ishgard for you?”

“No. There’s something about the technology being in proximity to this site that makes the whole thing work. See this?” she said as she plucked a device from her satchel. The device was humming slightly and gave off just the faintest hint of a glow until she moved right up next to the device in the ruins. Then, the item she held flashed and hummed loudly, emitting a regular pattern of pulses with its light. “Back in Ishgard, this was nothing but a hunk of metal for the longest time. It had me stymied thinking that there was some vast secret or some component that was missing or broken. At least until the latest round of items came to me last week. When I put this next to a particular tomestone from the Eight Sentinels, it began to hum very, very faintly. It wouldn’t do that for any other tomestone no matter how identical it looked. It only worked for the one from here. That got me started wondering if these devices are somehow connected aetherically to one another. I ran a few tests and it turns out that the answer is ‘yes.’ So, I brought as many objects from this location back with me to see _how_ they’re bound together.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Cid said as he started back over towards his tent and the work he had set out for himself. “Biggs, Wedge, and some of the other Ironworks crew will be around later for lunch. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I’d like that,” T’lorna agreed as she settled down to her own work.

~*~*~*~

The smell of food cooking over a variety of fires brought T’lorna out of her studies. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she shook her head. How had she managed to get so lost in her studies that she had not noticed the passage of time? Back in Ishgard she had grown accustomed to the household servants checking in on her regularly, breaking her concentration as they brought her snacks, teas, and meals while she worked. Heaving herself to her feet and wondering how she would be able to manage to get around when she got bigger, she walked over to the tents, took a platter, and began to fill it with various foods. Of late, she noticed that she had a taste for things that she normally would not have considered. She could eat meat again – only the smell of uncooked or undercooked meat make her sick. However, she’d also developed a taste for having butter on just about everything – including fruits! She’d also begun to favor more sour drinks and would add lemon to just about anything. Doctoring her food to her taste, she sat down at one of the scattered tables and dug in, studiously ignoring the strange looks from most of the men and the small smiles from the other women who could commiserate with the strange cravings of mid-pregnancy.

“So,” Cid said, keeping his eyes averted from her plate. How could _anyone_ want to have lemon with beef? “Have you learned anything new?”

“Several things,” T’lorna replied as she slathered a hunk of bread with butter and then sprinkled relish over it. “I’m beginning to see exactly how the Allagans connected the devices to each other. With a few more months of study, I’m confident we could reconstruct and re-key the Sentinels.”

“Cid was telling us about that,” Biggs said. “It’s not such a bad idea.”

“Any thoughts on building similar gates elsewhere?” Cid asked.

“Yes and no,” T’lorna replied. “It turns out that there’s much more to building one of these constructs than I had initially thought. I was able to find the foundational mechanism that makes each of the Sentinels function. They draw from the natural aether of the area which is channeled into them through a method I still haven’t quite figured out. I know that Alphinaud is searching for Y’shtola and I’m hoping that, once he finds her, I can convince her to come out here with me. If Urianger comes as well, I think that the three of us should be able to get a handle on how the Allagans set up the Sentinels. That’s going to be the key to building something like them elsewhere. We’ll have to work with the natural reserves of aether in the region.”

“So, it’s not just a simple as casting a few spells and channeling some aether into it?” Wedge asked with a sigh.

“No. And, I’ll be honest with you,” T’lorna added. “There’s something in the mechanism that was looking for a particular personal aetherial trait. A specific individual had to be present in order for the gates to come down at all. I think that’s what Doga and Unei meant by the gift of the royal blood.”

“So, if we had found the keys and made them but G’raha hadn’t been part of the expedition…”

“Then the Sentinels would still be standing,” T’lorna agreed. “All I can tell at this point is that a person with that particular trait had to be present. How the Sentinels recognized it, what the ‘keying’ aspects of that trait are, and how it can be passed on through inheritance are all things I still haven’t figured out. I may spend the last months of my confinement working on that if I can find enough people to study.”

“People?!” Wedge said in alarm. “You’re not going to experiment on people, are you?”

“Not in the sense you’re thinking,” she laughed, her ears flicking back and forth in amusement. “I’m going to study the aetheric similarities between family members. I think that Count Edmont and his sons will be amenable. I’d also like to study you, Cid. Since you’re Garlean, your aether has to be different than that of non-Garleans. Perhaps hitting on how it differs will help me to understand how a particular trait can be detected.”

“Which, in turn, would help us understand how the Royal Allagan bloodline can control the Tower,” Wedge said excitedly.

“It might also help us understand how to better control some of the ‘forbidden’ spells,” T’lorna added. “We think that Y’shtola used a spell called ‘Flow’ to transport herself and the others out of danger. The problem is that it transports by way of the aetherial sea and leaving that region is difficult and unpredictable. The last I heard, Alphinaud was working with the Elder Seedseer to track down one of Y’shtola’s sisters in order to try to match her aether to any that could be found in the aetherial sea in hopes of bringing Y’shtola back. If we could find a method that would allow for a user to transport themselves to the aetherial sea and out again at a controlled destination, then spells like Flow wouldn’t be half so dangerous.”

“Why not just use an aetheryte?”

“Because that requires several seconds of concentration and it can be blocked by other magic. Y’shtola and the others obviously either lacked the time or their attempts to transport out to an aetheryte were blocked. Still, my studies here and down the road may pave the way for a greater understanding of not just Allagan technology, but how to improve upon it.”

“I hope so, T’lorna,” Cid said firmly. “Beyond us all wanting to be able to open the Tower and bring your husband out sooner rather than later, think of the good we could do if we could safely use such technology. If we could somehow ensure that it would not be weaponized and used to harm the innocent, then we could start building a much better, safer, and healthier world.”

~*~*~*~

A few evenings later, T’lorna sat in her favorite chair in front of the roaring fireplace in the main sitting room of the Fortemps Manor. Next to her was a small table holding a plate of fish sandwiches and a mug of lemon-honey tea. She had her journal open and on her lapdesk and was updating it with her findings and speculations. Idly, she wondered when she would next hear from Alphinaud regarding his quest to find the missing Scions. She also wondered if Urianger would be stopping by any time soon to check up on her. It had been several weeks since his last visit. Just as she began to wonder further, she heard the front door open and voices. Sprinkling pounce and sand on her journal and then setting her lapdesk aside, she rose to see who was entering the home at this time of the evening. When she spied the two figures standing with Alphinaud and Urianger, she laughed and ran over to them, throwing her arms around them.

“I see we have much to discuss, my friend,” Y’shtola laughed as she returned T’lorna’s hug.

“Much indeed,” Thancred muttered as he stared at her waistline. “Such as how _this_ happened.” T’lorna gave him a mirth-filled look and Y’shtola tittered behind her hand. Within moments all of them were laughing, including Thancred himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how is everyone holding up? I hope you're all staying safe!


	21. The Aetherial Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have a bit more interlude that ends with a cliffhanger (sorry -- not sorry). :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“So, how did _this_ happen?” T’lorna asked as she and the rest of the Scions settled down in one of the cozier sitting rooms in the upper floor of the manor. “I suspected that you’d used the spell Flow to escape to the Aetherial Sea but I was still trying to determine how to reach you and rebuild your bodies from its basic aether.”

“Well,” Alphinaud began. He glanced at Urianger who gestured for the younger Elezen to tell the tale. “It began in Ul’dah. At first, I wanted to try to get down and explore the underground tunnels myself but the damage to them was too severe for that task to be accomplished by one person alone. Instead, Marshal Tarupin assisted me by sending his forces to do that. They found the bodies of several Crystal Braves but no evidence of Y’shtola, Thancred, or Minfilia. Instead, the only thing they found that belonged to any of the three was Y’shtola’s wand,” he added, pointing to the leafy rod the conjurer carried in a strap at her waist. “From the traces left on it, even after all these weeks, Urianger was able to determine that Y’shtola had used the forbidden spell Flow to escape. Marshal Tarupin led us to where the wand had been found and from there Urianger traced her aetherial trail to the Twelveswood. Together, we traveled to Gridania searching for word of Y’shtola but no sightings were reported.”

“I gleaned that much from your letters,” T’lorna said. “The last I heard, over a month ago, you were going to seek aid from the Elder Seedseer.”

“We did that,” Alphinaud nodded. “We traveled to Gridania and spoke with her and, based on her advice, sought out one of Y’shtola’s relatives. We came across her half-sister Y’mhitra who, oddly enough, has heard of you, T’lorna. Apparently she’s a member of the Sons of Saint Coinach and remembers you and your… remembers when you helped to open and explore the Crystal Tower,” Alphinaud stammered, still not completely comfortable discussing such private affairs. “With her help, we were able to pull Y’shtola out of the Lifestream. It took her a few days to recover. Once she had regained her strength, we set out to find Thancred.”

“I found no trace of Master Thancred’s aether within the Lifestream,” Urianger explained. “Therefore, it seemed expedient that our small group seek out one who had access to a means by which to explore the Lifestream at greater length.”

“So, we set out to speak with my old teacher, Master Matoya, near the ruins of Sharlayan in the Hinterlands,” Y’shtola said, taking up the tale. “She has, in her possession, what was once a Crystal of Light. It dates from a much earlier era when the Mothercrystal was stronger than she is now. Using it, we were able to trace Thancred to the Dravinian Forelands. We found him by talking to the local Vath tribe. It seems that he had been trading with them for several weeks. We must have just missed seeing him the last time we were there,” Y’shtola said with a growing grin. “He waited until the last instant to join a fight we found ourselves embroiled in as fits his appetite for the dramatic.”

“ _My_ appetite for the dramatic?!” Thancred sputtered. “Have you forgotten the circumstances of our parting? The heroic last stand, the tunnel filling with light, and then…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Had I known you intended to use forbidden magicks to deliver me to some godsforsaken wilderness… I would have thanked you in advance.”

“Thancred…” Y’shtola giggled.

“If nothing else, you might have warned me that I would emerge from the Lifestream in the altogether,” he added, shooting an annoyed glare at the silver haired Mi’qote. “Eventually, I managed to fashion knives from some obsidian I found, and set about hunting for meat and hides. Given that I’m not all that skilled in leatherworking, it’s probably for the best that I met the Vath before I was reunited with you.”

“So _you_ were the ‘fleshling clothed in skins’ of whom the storyteller among the Vath spoke,” Alphinaud laughed.

“A description which fit me as ill as the skins themselves,” Thancred chuckled. “Happily, I was able to trade with the Vath for garments better becoming a man of refinement. Also, from them, I learned of Ravana and of the great warrior who had once laid him low,” he added, nodding at T’lorna.

“And thence did you conclude that were you to track the primal’s movements, it would surely bring you into contact with the Scions once more.”

“It seemed a reasonable assumption. I could think of no one else with your enthusiasm for slaying beastman gods. Now,” he added, his eyes boring into T’lorna’s with intensity. “Tell me how it is that you came to be with child. And why you did not bother to tell the rest of us that you were expecting! Had I known, I would never have allowed you to endanger yourself as you did at that damnable feast!”

“At the time of the sultana’s ill-fated feast,” T’lorna explained, “I did not yet know myself that I was with child. I only knew that I was married and that my husband was lost to me.”

“Alphinaud muttered something about you being married,” Thancred said evenly. “Though he did not say that you were _already_ married. Y’shtola and I both assumed that you were to be married. Or to have been married.”

“No, I am married,” T’lorna said calmly. Her agitation and heartache were betrayed only by the way her fingers curled against the arms of the chair. “I have been married for several months. But my husband is lost to me. Hence the widow’s weeds I wear,” she added seeing the somewhat confused expression on the Hyur’s face. “It’s quite a tale. It all began when I joined with the Sons of Saint Coinach and Cid to explore the Crystal Tower…”

Thancred and Y’shtola sat quietly as T’lorna poured out the whole, painful story of meeting G’raha Tia, falling in love with him as they worked to open and explore the Crystal Tower, and then losing him when he decided to put the Tower back into stasis to protect the world from its dangers. They listened as she continued to talk about the days after, her returning to work with the Scions, the ill-fated feast, her own escape to Ishgard, working with Estinien and Ysayle, the loss of Haurchefant, the problems with the archbishop, his escape to Azys Lla, and her studies of Allagan artifacts and what she had discovered about Allag technology. By the time T’lorna finished her tale, full dark had fallen and she found herself famished. She stood from her seat and rang one of the bells, summoning servants to the room. With quick words and only a few questions, she soon had an order to the kitchens for a late dinner.

“You certainly have grown accustomed to living as a noble,” Thancred teased as T’lorna sat back down.

“I suppose I have,” the Warrior of Light admitted. “Still, I am hungry.”

“And eating for two,” the Hyur mused. “I wonder at that. Never in all of the literature and lore I have researched concerning the Warriors of Light of the past have I heard tell of any having children. I wonder at the wisdom of it. After all, tomorrow, Hydaelyn could very well call you to fight another battle like the Praetorium.”

“If she called me to do that, then I would refuse,” T’lorna said firmly. “If there was no choice to refuse, I would do everything I could to keep myself and my child safe. I have no problems taking risks and putting my own life on the line when necessary,” she added. “But I will not make that choice for my child.”

“Well, gods willing, we’ll have a few months before any of us are required in the field,” Thancred agreed. “That said, you mentioned that the archbishop escaped to Azys Lla, correct? Have you or any of the others been able to track him there?”

“We can’t even access it,” T’lorna replied. “Cid has tried. Apparently, to bring down the barrier protecting the floating city, he would need to load more crystals on the Enterprise than it is capable of carrying. We’re currently examining Allagan ruins in the region to see if there is a way to condense aether even further so that we would be able to cram more of it into fewer crystals. Thus far, we have had a few promising leads but not anything like as powerful enough as we need to make it work.”

“The technology of Allag has remained a mystery for many ages,” Y’shtola said softly. “It is a wonder that you have been able to make the kinds of inroads that you have in the short time we’ve been gone. I vaguely recall that there was a Student of Baldesion – a red-headed and rather brash Mi’qote – who made a study of Allagan history. What was his name?” she asked herself.

“That would have been G’raha,” T’lorna said with a slight wince.

“The same man?” Y’shtola said in surprise. “Well, that is one avenue lost to us, it seems. Perhaps Krile will know more. I could send word to her at Master Matoya’s that we have need of her knowledge.”

“Krile,” T’lorna said, the name familiar to her. “She has the Echo, does she not?”

“How did you know that?!” Y’shtola demanded, shocked.

“G’raha mentioned her to me,” T’lorna said with a smile. “He was telling me how useful the Echo must be since it gave me the ability to read, speak, and understand any language. He mentioned that Krile was frequently called on to provide translations for other scholars and that she often grew annoyed at the time she lost on her own work doing translations for others.”

“That is true,” Y’shtola laughed. “But still, she always managed to find time to help out even when it meant sacrificing her own projects.”

Before anyone could reply, the servants bustled into the room with trays and small tables. Soon, everyone was busy eating and, once dinner had been finished and cleared away, the servants led the Scions to guest rooms while T’lorna, weary but happy, retired to her own rooms to sleep.

“After all,” she yawned to herself as she prepared to climb into her bed, “it’s not like they’re going to vanish again any time soon.”

~*~*~*~

Over the next several weeks, T’lorna continued her research but found herself increasingly confined to the Fortemps manor. The few times she went to visit with Ser Aymeric or made her way to the library, the looks she got from others were border-line censorious. Finally, as she neared the end of her fifth moon of pregnancy, she decided to defer to the customs of Ishgard and kept herself confined to the manor grounds. She took walks in the gardens when she needed a breath of fresh air. Y’shtola found the practice of confinement both amusing and annoying but T’lorna went along with it even though, among the tribes, pregnant women were not restricted from any activities other than hunting.

“How can you stand it?” Y’shtola asked one evening. “Among our own people, a fertile woman is considered a sign of great pride for the tribe. We don’t hide ourselves away as if we have committed some crime.”

“I agree,” T’lorna sighed, rubbing her belly. She could feel firm kicks and flutters regularly now. “Still, it’s not that onerous considering how cold Ishgard is.”

“Does it pain you?” the other Mi’qote asked as she watched T’lorna rub her belly.

“No. Tiny Kit is just active today.”

“May I?” she asked as she stood and walked over to the pregnant woman, her hand held out as if to touch T’lorna’s stomach.

“Here,” T’lorna said, taking her hand and pressing it against her stomach where the baby was kicking. “Feel that?”

“I do,” Y’shtola said wonderingly. “It’s amazing.”

“What are you two doing?” Alphinaud asked curiously as he walked into the Fortemps library. “Is T’lorna well? Are you checking her for illness?”

“No,” Y’shtola laughed. “She and Tiny Kit are fine. I was just feeling the kicking.”

“Kicking?”

“Yes, kicking.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, turning his wide blue eyes on T’lorna.

“No,” the blonde Mi’qote replied. “I’m just aware of it. Tiny Kit is rather active today and has been getting more active over the past few weeks.”

“Would you like to feel it?” Y’shtola asked Alphinaud.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered uneasily.

“Oh, come on, Alphinaud,” Y’shtola muttered as she walked over to him, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him over to T’lorna. She placed the young Elezen’s hand on T’lorna’s stomach.

“That’s… it’s…” Alphinaud gasped, his eyes growing still wider in shock. “That’s terrifying.”

“What?!” both women snarled.

“I mean… the thought that there is… you know… a whole person in there with arms and legs and a tail and ears…” he stammered. He flushed bright pink and snatched his hand away before turning and leaving the library, muttering something about going to find a book to read.

“Poor boy,” T’lorna giggled when the door shut behind him. “That was cruel, Y’shtola.”

“Perhaps,” the other woman agreed with a broad grin. “Still, sometimes that boy has his head too far up in the clouds. It will do him good once in a while to have someone catch him off-guard. He used to be far worse, you know,” she added.

“Oh?”

“When he and his twin sister first came to study in Sharlayan, he announced, in rather pompous tones for a boy of only eleven, that his goal was nothing less than the salvation of Eorzea. You’ll have to get Krile to recount that particular event to you – she tells it much better than I do.”

“I have noticed that he wears self-possession rather like armor and for the same reason,” T’lorna nodded. “However, being around Estinien has begun to break through that. It’s amazing how little practical knowledge Alphinaud has and how little respect for such skills he had until he found a mentor who impressed him by being completely unimpressed with everything.”

“I would like to meet this Estinien,” Y’shtola said.

“He’s rough around the edges. I think you’ll like him.”

“So, what are you going to do for the next three moons while you’re confined to the house? Is there anything you’d like me to go out and bring back to you? I know that if I were facing three months of confinement, I would be ready to climb the walls.”

“If you find any Allagan tomestones, I’d like you to bring those back. Otherwise, I would appreciate it very much if you could drag Urianger out of the Waking Sands and haul him to the Eight Sentinels in Mor Dhona. I’ll give you my notes to use as a guide, but I want your take on it as well. I’m hoping to be able to rebuild the Sentinels eventually.”

“To what end?”

“To protect the technology within the Tower from Garlemald. Also, to see if, once we rebuild it, we can build another like it elsewhere. Getting a grasp on Allagan technology will benefit us all if we deploy it strategically to protect ourselves. I want to focus on purely defensive technology first and foremost. After all, I imagine it would be somewhat difficult to weaponize a barrier.”

“I imagine it would be,” the white haired Mi’qote agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. Dragging Urianger out of the Waking Sands will be difficult. He has ever preferred to go his own way.”

“I’m sure you can come up with some sufficiently arcane and esoteric reason or knowledge that would entice him out of his hole in the ground,” T’lorna chuckled.

“As I said, I’ll do what I can. While I’m doing this for you, there is something I’d like you to do for me.”

“And that is?”

“I want you to do something to snap Thancred out of his funk.”

“He has been rather moody of late,” T’lorna said musingly. “Is it the fact that there has been no trace of Minfilia? I’ve always wondered about the two of them.”

“You and the rest of the Scions – minus Alphinaud, of course,” Y’shtola laughed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” T’lorna promised. “I had been thinking about inviting Thancred for dinner one evening. If I can figure out a way to do that and to get Urianger to stop in, perhaps the three of us could start a Lonely Hearts’ Club,” she joked. “Gods know that I miss Raha with every breath I take. I can’t imagine that either of them is faring much better. Thancred must miss Minfilia just as badly and, for all that he pretends to be Mr. Pure and Innocent, I think that Uriagner would give his soul to have Moenbryda back.”

“You aren’t wrong. About either of them,” Y’shtola sighed. “It’s something of an open secret about Thancred and Minfilia. Our Antecedent would never have pressed Thancred for a declaration – she felt him to be just a friend. However, for as long as I have known the two, I have suspected that a kind of passionate, all-consuming love lay between them. I’ve never understood why Thancred refused to say anything, though.”

“And concerning Urianger and Moenbryda?”

“I knew the both of them when we were studying with the Students of Baldesion and later, when we formed the Circle of Knowing. Moenbryda had no compunctions about showing her attraction to and affection for Urianger,” Y’shtola sighed. “However, Urianger was so wrapped up in his need to be the perfect enigmatic prophet that he never showed signs of interest in anyone.”

“At least not until Moenbryda made her appearance in Mor Dhona.”

“Yes,” Y’shtola agreed. “After that, it was clear to me – and to you, obviously – that he cared for her. I won’t go so far as to say that he loved her but I will say that she had a special place in his heart. In his life. When she died, she took something of him with her.”

“Well then,” T’lorna sighed as she rubbed at her belly again. The babe within her was still kicking but the kicks had grown weaker, as if her child was ready to sleep for a while, “it seems that I have my orders.”

“And I have mine.”

“Good luck, Shtola,” T’lorna whispered as she hefted herself out of her chair and headed towards her chambers.

“Good luck, Lorna,” the other Mi’qote said quietly as she returned to her own studies. “You’ll need it.”

~*~*~*~

“I understand that you wanted to speak with me,” Thancred said as he ducked into T’lorna’s suite of rooms. Ever since Haurchefant’s funeral and his own invitation to join House Fortemps formally, Count Edmont had set aside a set of rooms ‘more appropriate’ to his daughter’s station than those set aside for a mere ward of the House. Her chambers now included an informal dining room, a sitting room, a full _ensuite_ , and a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. There were several comfortable chairs in her sitting room and the maids kept the fireplace burning. Once a week, the fire was doused and chimney sweeps came in to clean the chimney and the fireplace so that there was never more than a hint of smoke. Thancred grinned as he took in the wealth and comfort of her chambers.

“I did,” T’lorna said lightly as she settled in to one of the more comfortable seats near the fire. “It seems that you have been driving yourself rather hard of late.”

“So what if I have been?” he asked.

“Y’shtola is worried about you. I know that no sign of Minfilia has been found but that is _not_ your fault, Thancred. The Antecedent would not want you to exhaust yourself searching for her. When the time comes to find her, we will. Until then, you should concentrate on helping the Scions find a way into Azys Lla or on keeping an eye on the Garleans. Gods know that we need to work fast to keep ahead of the Emperor.”

“I don’t believe what I do in my own time is any of your business, my friend.”

“It isn’t,” T’lorna agreed calmly. “Unless, of course, it runs the risk of you wearing yourself out. Come now, Thancred,” she sighed as she resettled herself in her chair and rubbed at her stomach. Of late, it had become more and more difficult for her to find a comfortable position for sitting or sleeping. The tiny kit within her kicked almost constantly and she found herself craving the strangest foods. “Do you think I don’t know what it is like to be without the one you love?”

“Love?” Thancred said with a guilty start. “I care about Minfilia, true, but I wouldn’t say I…”

“Oh, hush,” T’lorna said irritably. “You can protest all you want but we know the truth. You’re head over heels in love with the woman and have been for years. Sure, you might wrap yourself in that tragic cloak of having failed her but the truth is that you didn’t fail her. You just like to think you did. If you failed her, then it means you’re unworthy of her and you can nurse your heartache and your not-so-secret love without risking telling her. But we all know differently. You love her and, what’s more, she loves you. She’s just been waiting for you to admit it so that she can be open and honest with you in turn.”

“Minfilia does not…”

“She does,” T’lorna said firmly. “Do you think that any woman who did not love you would keep you around? Would rely on you as much as she does? Would sacrifice her own well-being to ensure your safety? Minfilia loves you. You love her. It’s high time you admitted it and started thinking about what you are going to do _when_ we find her. Are you going to keep playing the tragic hero? Are you going to force her to stay alone, wishing for you? Or are you finally going to do the right thing and tell her the truth? Yes, it will mean giving up your reputation as a ladies’ man,” T’lorna grinned, “but I think you’ll be happier without that reputation so long as you have the love of the one woman you want more than life itself.”

“You do have a way of knifing through all of my defenses,” Thancred grumped as he settled into a seat near the Mi’qote. “Did Y’shtola put you up to this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Not really. She _did_ ask me to get you out of your funk,” T’lorna admitted, “but I would have done this regardless. You, my friend, need a good kick in the rear. You’ve been morose and miserable to be around ever since you were found. Come now,” she sighed irritably, “think about how things could be worse and be thankful that you still have a prayer, at least, of seeing your love again.”

“What would _you_ know of losing the person you love… oh,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his long white hair, “ _that_ was stupid and cruel of me. Forgive me, T’lorna.”

“Think nothing of it,” she sighed. “There are days that I almost forget that I have a husband I will never see again. All right,” she admitted at the dubious glare from the Hyur, “ _moments._ For a few moments after I wake up in the morning, I sometimes forget that Raha is locked away in the Crystal Tower. I sometimes think that he has just woken up before me and that he’ll be along shortly to help me out of the bed. Then, I remember that he is gone. I remember that he has no clue that I am carrying his child. And I wonder what he will think when he wakes up and the Crystal Tower is open once more. Will he hate me for not forcing my way in to tell him? Will he hate himself for leaving me to face this alone? Will he go through his life never knowing that his line carried on while he slept? What kind of future will he face? Will he be as desperately lonely as I am? Or will he move on and find a new love in a new era? Will he even remember me or will time and his long sleep erase me from his mind? Does he dream of me as I dream of him?” she wondered.

“Gods know, my friend,” Thancred said as he rose from his seat and moved to kneel in front of the Warrior of Light, “that you have suffered and sacrificed enough for this world. There is no way that any man who loves you would ever forget you. No matter when this G’raha Tia awakens, he will remember you. He will ache to have you near him just as I ache to have Minfilia near me. In time, yes, he may move on if you are well and truly lost to him but I doubt it. If he is anything like you and if he is at all worthy of you, he will not find anyone who comes close to matching you. Instead, he will do what he feels he must and then find his way into the Aetherial Sea to await your rebirth so that he can live a new life with you. Just as I will do if it turns out the Minfilia’s spirit is lost to that same sea.”

“I am certain that we will find Minfilia soon and that you will not be parted from her much longer,” T’lorna said confidently as she smiled down at the kneeling Hyur. “In the meantime… think that the pair of us could tease Urianger out of his gloom?”

“Urianger?” Thancred snorted. “He would be _most_ unhappy if we tried to unravel the mysteries and enigmas he surrounds himself with. Instead, we should just get him to be here when you give birth. That should fluster him enough for both of us to find amusement in the thought for some time to come. By the way,” he asked, lifting a hand and letting it hover over her stomach until T’lorna took it and pressed it down so that he could feel her child kick. “That’s amazing,” Thancred whispered. “But what I wanted to ask was how much longer until Tiny Kit comes out to meet us?”

“Another moon and a half,” T’lorna replied. “Do you think that Urianger will come for the birth?”

“I think that I’m not going to give him much of a choice,” the Hyur said firmly. “As a matter of fact, if he hasn’t gone with Y’shtola already to study those ruins over in Mor Dhona, I may kidnap him and drag him there myself for a few weeks before bringing him here and tying him down so that he _has_ to be on hand when you go into labor.”

“I think I would find that very amusing,” the Mi’qote grinned.

“Then I think I will get on with it. Thanks, my friend,” he added with a wry smile. “You were right. I did need a kick to the rear. Should we find Minfilia, I will not waste either of our times any longer. She can accept me or reject me as she sees fit but I will no longer hide behind a mask. I _will_ let her know.”

“And when she accepts you, you had damned well better remember to invite me to the wedding.”

“That we will, T’lorna,” he promised with a laugh. “That we will.”

~*~*~*~

At eight-and-a-half-moons, T’lorna thought that if she did not have her baby soon, she would go mad. Her stomach had swollen far beyond what she thought possible. She could barely stand to waddle around on swollen ankles and her back ached continually. She could never find a comfortable position for sitting, sleeping, or anything other than walking. She had taken to taking long walks through the manor and the gardens until her fingers were blue and she could barely feel her feet.

Over the past few days, she had felt a restlessness that drove her to clean her rooms thoroughly, to sort out all of the baby clothes she had received, to check the sheets for her bed, and to get everything in as perfect order as she could for when her child would be born. She had found herself growing increasingly fretful and have even spent hours weeping, wishing that it were all over.

“How are you, my lady?” she heard Urianger ask from the doors leading into her chambers.

“I am ready to have this baby already,” T’lorna answered, pitching her voice loud enough to be heard in the sitting room from where she stood in one of the many closets. She continued to walk absently around the closet and her bedchamber. Her back had been aching and cramping since the previous evening and she’d woken to a mess that required her to bathe and have fresh seats put on her bed – a mess that made her blush with embarrassment. “Do you know anything that can bring a baby on?”

“No, I am afraid that knowledge is not among my ken,” the Elezen admitted with a slight blush. “However, Thancred and Lady Y’shtola said you wished to speak with me and that you wished me to remain for the day when your child would be born.”

“I do want you to stay,” T’lorna agreed. “Not just so you can be here when Tiny Kit is born, but also because Y’shtola and Thancred both tell me that you have become insufferable.”

“Insufferable?” Urianger repeated, flinching.

“Yes. Insufferable. They both used that word. Repeatedly. With various modifiers that I don’t think I should repeat since I don’t want my child’s first words to be quite so foul.”

“I am afraid that I do not…”

“Oh, hush,” T’lorna grimaced as she waddled across the bedroom and into the sitting room. “I finally got Thancred to admit what the rest of us already knew about him being completely in love with Minfilia. Now I’m going to get you to admit the same thing…”

“For all that I greatly respect and admire the Antecedent,” Urianger said in his normal manner of declaiming everything so that it sounded weightier and more profound, “I am not in love with…”

“Not her,” T’lorna growled as she settled carefully into one of the chairs and repositioned her bulk in an effort to take some of the pressure off both her bladder and her lungs. “With Moenbryda.”

The effort the Elezen made in keeping his face completely smooth gave more than enough evidence to the Mi’qote that her words had hit their mark. She stood up to press him further but felt a painful rip through her back followed by a gushing of water down her legs. Her face turned bright red as she feared that she had just wet herself in front of the self-possessed arcanist but Urianger was studying her with calm eyes.

“Has your back been bothering you this morning?” he asked cooly.

“Yes,” she nodded as she rubbed at her belly. “Since yesterday evening, actually. I could barely get any sleep for the constant spasms.”

“And I imagine that sometime over the past few days you have had an episode not unlike those you had once per month prior to your pregnancy,” he added with a touch of delicacy.

“Yes, this morning… What are you driving at, Urianger?” she demanded. Her words turned into a gasp at the end as another ripping pain tore through her. The Elezen hurried to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, helping her to lean against his wiry form as he led her back to her bedroom and sat her down on the birthing chair.

“I believe that your time has come a half-moon early, my Lady. If you will but remain here for a few moments, I will fetch the servants and healers and send word to the others. It seems that Tiny Kit,” he said, his thin lips quirking into a small smile, “has decided to come greet the rest of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not even going to lie about why this is late -- my copy of the FFVII remake came in this week and between it, classes, and work, I didn't get much writing done until I woke up this morning, realized I had missed my deadline, and banged out the chapter. I would ordinarily promise to do better but, come on, FFVII Remake. I've been wanting and waiting for this game for nearly 15 years. It's going to own my life for a little while. I will still try to post once per week but I may have shorter chapters or even just post part of a chapter and then update it. I've run out of "lead ahead" material but should start building some back up in a few weeks.


	22. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now Tiny Kit finally joins us! Also, we learn more about T'lonra's people and she starts to show how parenthood changes people a little. :) We will continue to see her grow in future chapters and we will be getting back to the action soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna stared at Urianger in shock. She had assumed that she would know when she went into labor. To hear that she had been in labor for several hours already nearly sent her into a panic.

“Breathe, my Lady,” Urianger said calmly but firmly as he placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her from rising. “Where are your birthing clothes?”

“Folded up on the top shelf of the armoire,” she replied breathlessly. “Are you sure that… I mean, I was told that it would be at least another half-moon.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Urianger said with that same normally-maddening but now very welcome calm. “I am _quite_ certain. Your water breaking is a rather weighty hint that Tiny Kit will be joining us within the next day. Now, focus on taking deep, regular breaths and keeping yourself calm while I help you change into something more appropriate for giving birth.” He walked over to the armoire and removed the short gown that lay on the top shelf. Walking back over to the laboring woman, he helped her to undress, ignoring her blushes, and then redress in the loose-fitting gown that came down to her knees. He carried her other clothes to the hamper and then rang the bell to summon the servants. After that, the Elezen helped the Mi’qote up out of the chair and walked circuits around the room with her until the servants arrived to take their own turns at walking with the woman. Once T’lorna was well in hand with the servants, Urianger left the room, stopping only to wash his hands well before hastening out to find the other Scions.

T’lorna walked circuits around the room with various pairs of servants walked on either side of her. She paused whenever a contraction hit, hunching over and struggling not to cry out as they grew stronger. Healers came in and out of the room at seemingly random times, helping her to sit while they examined her to judge how far along her labor was.

Walking, always walking. As the afternoon waxed and then began to wane, T’lorna’s legs trembled and she was permitted to sit so that the servants could help her sip water, tea, and hearty soup.

“How goes it, my friend?” Thancred asked as he came to stand next to her.

“My legs are tired,” she sighed as she cautiously took another sip of soup, “and my feet hurt.”

“I am certain that you will feel better tomorrow, my Lady,” Urianger promised as he stood behind her. “You are quite tense.”

“Can’t imagine why _that_ would be,” T’lorna growled as she grit her teeth through another contraction. Thancred snorted a soft laugh and Alphinaud, who had taken up residence on her other side, was staring at her out of eyes the size of dinner plates.

“It will go better and swifter for you if you could but relax,” Urianger replied, ignoring the sarcasm. He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to massage her shoulders, her neck, and her back. He would halt his ministrations whenever he felt her tense for a contraction and then begin again.

“Should we all be in here?” Alphinaud asked as he watched Thancred hold a cup of soup to T’lorna’s lips so that she could let Urianger massage her upper arms. “I mean, she’s… she’s having the baby.”

“Leave if you want, Alphinaud,” Thancred said evenly as he set the cup down after T’lorna finished the last of the soup. “Come on, my friend,” he said to T’lorna as he and the elder Elezen helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk with you all evening, all night, and all day tomorrow if I must.”

The servants and healers bustled about the room until Y’shtola entered and growled them out. T’lorna was thankful for the Scion’s intervention. She had grown tired of being the object of stares, discussions, and unsolicited advice but did not know how to politely ask the servants of House Fortemps to go to the seven hells and leave her be. With only the Scions and the midwife bustling about her rooms, T’lorna was able to walk through more than just her bedchamber. Thancred remained at her side constantly but was often joined by the wide-eyed and bewildered Alphinaud who could not find it in him to leave but still could not decide what to do while he stayed. He fluttered around T’lorna, making her nervous. She would snap at him and he would wander over to Urianger, tears in his great blue eyes, while the elder Elezen and Y’shtola gave him some comfort and reminded him that the Warrior of Light was not exactly in the best of moods at the moment.

“Quit talk about me like I’m not here!” T’lorna screamed at them after the fourth time her snapping had sent Alphinaud running for comfort. “Godsdammit! I am standing right here! I haven’t lost my mind, been tempered by a primal, or forgotten how to speak Common! Quit talking about me like I can’t hear you!”

“One day, Alphinaud, you will be married and it will be your wife screaming at you,” Y’shtola said with her trademark calm amusement. “When that day comes, you will be able to look back on this one with a smile and gratitude towards T’lorna for teaching you how to handle yourself with grace at such a time.”

“I swear to all of the gods who are listening and those who aren’t,” T’lorna snarled as another contraction hit, “I am never going to let a man touch me ever again. The Crystal Tower could open tomorrow and Raha could come out and I would punch him in the damned face!”

“Your mother said the exact same thing about your father when you and your sister were being born,” Urianger said calmly.

“But Mother and Father are quite fond of each other,” Alphinaud muttered in confusion. “She has no problem letting him hold her or even kiss her.”

“Ah, to be so young and so naïve,” Y’shtola laughed. “Still, it is sad that G’raha Tia is not here to witness the birth of his child.”

“If he were here, I’d rip his heart out through his ears! I’d strangle him with his own tail! I would yank his tongue out! Through his rectum!”

“That’s not physically possible,” Alphinaud muttered.

“ _Do I look like I give a shit_?!” T’lorna swore.

“My Lady,” the midwife said calmly as she walked to join the laboring woman and the Hyur glued to her side, “please, come take a seat in the birthing chair. I believe your time may be at hand.”

“I am going to _kill_ Raha the next time I see him! How dare he do this to me!” T’lorna raged as the midwife and Thancred guided her to the birthing chair. The woman examined T’lorna and then nodded to Thancred. The Hyur held T’lorna so that she was bent nearly in half, one of his arms slung across and behind her back while she grasped his other hand. Alphinaud came over when Urianger moved to check on T’lorna as well. The elder Elezen and the midwife exchanged a few whispered words and then Urianger helped to reposition the chair for the actual birth.

“What should I do?” Alphinaud asked softly, his voice trembling with fear and anticipation.

“Hold her hand,” Thancred suggested mildly.

“My Lady,” the midwife said calmly as she settled herself on a stool in front of the chair, “the next time you feel a contraction, you must bear down and push.”

“Oh gods,” Alphinaud hissed. “Does that mean that the baby will be here soon?”

“No!” T’lorna snarled sarcastically. “It means that we’re going to have a tea party!”

“Not quite up to your usual brilliance,” Thancred muttered.

“Shu…” T’lorna started to say as a contraction hit and she sucked in her breath. She squeezed Thancred and Alphinaud’s hands as she let the Hyur bend her even further and bore down with all of the strength she could muster. When the contraction ended, Thancred helped the Mi’qote to lean back in the chair and winced at the pain in his fingers where T’lorna had nearly crushed them.

“She broke my hand,” Alphinaud whimpered so softly that Thancred barely heard him. T’lorna, who was whimpering herself and panting for breath, did not hear him. Instead, her attention was focused completely inward.

“The babe is in position,” the midwife announced. “Another few pushes like that and this will all be over.”

“I want to see,” Alphinaud said but a stern look from Urianger, the midwife, and Thancred halted him.

“You can look when it’s your own wife,” the Hyur muttered. “How are you feeling, T’lorna?”

“Ready to have this over with,” she panted.

“Well, we’re almost there.”

T’lorna tried to catch her breath but found herself bent over as another powerful contraction hit. She bore down, clutching both men’s hands, and felt sweat begin to pour down her face, neck, and chest. With more encouragement and more pushing, soon, she was leaning back in the chair as the soft cries of a newborn filled the room. She felt one last contraction as the afterbirth was pushed from her body and then heard a sharp wail of pain as the cord was cut.

“Congratulations, my dear,” the midwife said as she gently wiped the baby clean. “You have a fine son.”

“Give me my baby,” she demanded weakly, losing her hands from Thancred and Alphinaud’s and reaching out towards where the midwife and Urianger were checking the child over. She could already see that her baby had Raha’s shock of thick, red hair. The midwife shrugged and then moved to lay the still-whimpering baby on T’lorna’s chest. T’lorna wrapped her arms around her child and, with Thancred’s help, sat up in the chair so she could examine the baby.

“Hello there, Tiny Kit,” she said softly as she stared wonderingly at her son. “You look just like your father. Oh, look, Thancred!” she said in awe as she slowly unwrapped her son. “He has tiny little fingers and fingernails. And look at his chubby little legs and feet with his little toes! That’s right, my kit,” she said when her son started to wave his tail, “I’m your Mama.”

Her son slowly began to open his eyes, turning his head weakly on his neck to try to look around. She heard Thancred gasp and Alphinaud utter a prayer when they say her son’s bright ruby irises.

“You do look _exactly_ like your father,” T’lorna said as tears joined the sweat rolling down her face. “My little Noah.”

~*~*~*~

After a week of enforced bedrest following the birth, T’lorna was starting to grow a little restless. She was allowed out of bed only to be helped into the bathtub or to visit the privy. She still felt heavy from her pregnancy but knew that the extra weight would be gone once she returned to the field. For now, though, she was largely content to remain in her rooms with her son and the occasional visitor.

“Are you decent this time?” she heard Alphinaud call out from the sitting room. She grinned. The day after her son had been born, Alphinaud had walked in to see her nursing and, without a word, had turned on his heel and walked right back out.

“Decent enough for you!” she called back out as she quickly covered her chest and lifted her half-sleeping and now well-fed son to her shoulder so she could burp him. “I promise I’m covered up. Noah just finished eating.”

“Thancred is with me,” Alphinaud warned her as he opened the door to the bedroom and, carefully keeping his gaze averted, entered the room.

“And so am I!” Tataru announced as she walked in just behind the two men. “I hate that I was out of town when Noah was born!”

“You didn’t miss much,” Alphinaud muttered as he held up his bandaged hand. “Though getting your hand crushed to powder is an interesting experience. Not one I care to repeat.”

“Consider it practice,” Thancred chuckled as he walked straight over to the bed and sat down on it near the basket where Noah slept.

“I’m sorry your hand is still bothering you, Alphinaud,” T’lorna said softly. “When my energy returns, if it still pains you, I will heal it.”

“I’ll remember that,” the young man said tightly.

“Noah is such a pretty name,” Tataru said lightly as she clambered up on the bed to sit on the other side of the mother and child. “Where did you come up with it?”

“Raha called our band of merry adventurers the Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical or NOAH. It’s actually the name of an ancient Allagan scholar,” she said with a soft smile as she remembered the name.

“And so you named your son after the group your husband founded,” Thancred said with a nod. “I had hoped it would be something related to Allag and not after that legatus.”

“I hadn’t stopped to think of him,” T’lorna muttered. Noah gave a slight hiccoughing burp and then settled down.

“I vaguely recall this G’raha Tia from my days at the Studium,” Alphinaud mused. “If I remember correctly, he had mismatched eyes – one blue and one red. How is it that his son has both eyes red?”

“After our encounter in the World of Darkness,” T’lorna explained, “the clones Unei and Doga gave Raha their blood – imbued him with their power to control the technology of the Tower – and his blue eye turned red. Noah was conceived after that, I suspect. Therefore, he must have inherited the full status of an Allagan Royal from Raha.”

“Does that mean he could eventually open the Tower?” Alphinaud asked, his face brightening at the thought.

“I suppose,” T’lorna said slowly. “But I will not press him to ever do such a thing. Raha’s hope was that the Tower would remain closed until the world matched Allag’s knowledge. If that time comes soon, then I would not object. However, I will not demand that my son embrace such a frightful destiny just because I miss his father.”

“Besides,” Thancred said as he held out his arms. T’lorna grinned and passed her sleeping son over to the Hyur. “It is not as if Noah will ever lack for father figures in his life. Uncle Thancred will teach him how to handle blades, how to hide in the shadows, how to track and stalk his quarry. And when he gets old enough, Uncle Thancred will teach him how to hold his liquor and how to talk to women.”

“If he has inherited his father’s charm, the girls will be lined up around the block with no lessons from you,” T’lorna laughed.

“And I’ll teach him history!” Alphinaud brightened. “I’ll teach him everything I know.”

“And I’m certain that Urianger, Y’shtola, and I will have him a scholar in whatever branch of magic he enjoys,” T’lorna nodded. “His Uncle Cid and Uncles Biggs and Wedge will teach him everything there is to know about technology and magitek. He’s going to be one very knowledgeable young man when he comes of age. Not to mention a hunter beyond compare since I have no doubts that his grandfather and uncles from my tribe will teach him everything they know.”

“Gods be good,” Tataru laughed, “he’s not even a month old and we’re already planning his future accomplishments. Well, I might not be able to teach him much beyond budgeting but Aunt Tataru will ensure that he is always well-dressed!”

“Don’t tell me you have spent time making baby clothes that he’ll outgrow in a week or two,” T’lorna groaned.

“Not exactly,” the Lalafell admitted with a broad grin. “I’ve made him a few gowns that can easily be modified and altered as he grows!”

“Define ‘a few,’” T’lorna said cautiously.

“Only four,” Tataru laughed. “Now, Uncle Thancred, it’s _my_ turn to hold my nephew!”

They each took a turn holding the baby and cooing at his sleeping face. Even Alphinaud climbed up on the bed so he could hold his nephew. However, when Noah started to rouse and fuss, the young man was quick to pass the baby to one of the others.

“He’s not hungry again, is he?”

“No,” Thancred said as he checked the diaper, “he’s wet.”

“Do you want to try your hand at this, Uncle Thancred, or do you need Mama to take over?” T’lorna teased.

“I think I can handle it,” the Hyur chuckled as he stood up and carried Noah over to the changing table. With quick, confident moves, Thancred had the baby changed and back in his mother’s arms within moments. “You mentioned your tribe a bit ago,” he continued. “Are you planning to visit them?”

“Yes,” T’lorna said sadly. “It’s strange. I can remember how frightened I was that my father would be angry with me for marrying and having a child without his consent. But then, a few days ago, I realized that he is going to be devastated that he was not allowed to be part of his grandson’s birth. He’s going to be upset that I was too scared to tell him the truth. Yes, he might be angry with me but if he loves me as I love my son, that anger will not separate us.”

“You aren’t going to go right away, are you?” Alphinaud asked in alarm. “I mean, you just gave birth a few days ago. You’re still… well… that is to say… you need more time to recover, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she grinned, “I need a few more weeks to recover. I’m aware that my ‘womanly issues’ trouble you, Alphinaud,” she added as she watched his face and ears turn bright pink, “but then, in a few years, you won’t be so bothered by the thought of women being different.”

“I like that women are different,” Thancred quipped. “The differences make life so much sweeter.”

“They do,” T’lorna chuckled. “Still, I will make a trip to visit my tribe in a few weeks when I am stronger and when Noah is ready to meet people.”

“Will you use the aetheryte to transport there or will you take the long route?” Tataru asked.

“The long route for now. I’m not certain how well the trip through the aether would go with Noah with me.”

“Well, if you’re going to do that, I had better start finding people to act as your escorts,” the Lalafell said as she crawled back down the bed and hopped off the foot.

“I’m not going to leave for a few weeks at least,” the Mi’qote protested.

“Then that gives me plenty of time to get them ready,” Tataru said as she walked out of the room.

“Don’t try to argue with her,” Thancred advised. “You’ll just be wasting your breath.”

“I’m starting to see that,” T’lorna sighed. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I will,” Thancred nodded. “It would be interesting to meet one of the tribes in full. So far, all of the Mi’qote I have met have been those like you – those who left the tribe to wander the world.”

“The tribal grounds are not so different,” she explained. “A little more open about some of our traditions but still, just people going about their lives. Alphinaud, should I expect you to want to join us?”

“No,” Alphinaud sighed. “I have too much study and work to do. Besides, wouldn’t you rather take Y’shtola with you?”

“Take Y’shtola?” T’lorna laughed. “To _my_ tribe’s grounds? No. I’d rather watch that particular explosion from a safe distance. Maybe sell tickets to it. It would be the entertainment event of the era.”

“What do you mean by that?” Thancred asked curiously.

“Oh, we Mi’qote get along well enough,” she explained, “but we can be territorial. If a strange, unclaimed woman comes into another tribe’s lands, the women of the tribe can get a bit huffy and the Tias can get a bit… frisky. Since Y’shtola seems to have no interest in being part of a breeding section nor in pairing up with a rouge Tia, she’d probably wind up doing the same thing I would were I unclaimed and wandered into a different tribe’s ground and, trust me, with her powers, it would be memorable.”

“But your tribe won’t have that problem with me?” Thancred asked.

“You’re a Hyur. Our customs only apply to other Mi’qote though I doubt that the Nuhn and Tias will allow you to spend much time unsupervised with the females of the tribe.”

“I had no idea your tribes were so controlling.”

“They are and they aren’t,” T’lorna sighed. “Anyone can leave the tribe if they want – look at how many of us do go out into the world. However, if you choose to stay with the tribe, then you live by its laws. It’s not really that different from living in a city – if you live in one place, you obey the laws and customs of that place. If you don’t like them, you leave.”

“But our people can marry as they choose,” Thancred pointed out.

“Hyurs generally do not have families with ten or more children,” T’lorna pointed out dryly. “For my people, it’s unusual have only one baby at a time. I had been half-expecting girls since girls are more commonly born than boys. Among the Hyur, girls and boys are born at about the same rate, right?”

“They are,” Alphinaud answered.

“Well, among my people, for every son that is born, there are eight girls that are born as well.”

“But you did have a son,” Thancred pointed out as he ran a finger along Noah’s cheek.

“Yes, which means that, were G’raha around, our next few sets of children would be girls.”

“So you only have one brother?” Thancred asked.

“Only one full brother – who shares the same mother as I do. I have over a dozen half-brothers.”

“But how?”

“Because my father is the Nuhn. He’s the breeding male. He’s the one who gets to father the children of the tribe. The Tias – his sons and his brothers who stayed – work with him to care for the tribe but he’s the only male allowed to breed with the breeding females. He had to prove himself worthy of becoming a Nuhn – prove that his lineage would be the best to carry the tribe into the future – before he was given the title and status when his cousin became too old to be Nuhn. Trust me,” she added, seeing the looks of confusion in Thancred and Alphinaud’s eyes. “It works out well for my people. Much better than the legends say things went before we instituted the rule of the Nuhn. Tias used to war over women and women were sold and treated like property. Now women have power in the tribes and are protected and cared for by the entire tribe. It’s not like they’re all confined to a prison and only visited when my father feels like lying with one of them. They’re free to come and go as they please and the customs of the tribes protect them.”

“But if they’re all half-sisters, what will happen with your father grows too old to be Nuhn?”

“Chances are that a promising Tia from another tribe will come in since it has been two generations since we had an infusion of new blood. The same thing could happen for one or more of my brothers – they could become the Nuhns of other tribes since they are too closely-related to the breeding females to mate with them.”

“I’m certain it must work well,” Thancred said as he rose to leave and gestured for Alphinaud to stand as well. “For now, you need to get your rest. We’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to being able to get out of this bed soon,” T’lorna sighed. “And to being able to take Noah outside.”

“Give yourself a few weeks more to recover. Then, I promise you, I will escort you wherever you wish to go,” Thancred promised as he left and closed the doors behind himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think of the name? And of the fact that Noah is a tiny replica of his papa? Think that might wind up being important later on? ;)
> 
> I do hope I didn't screw up the birthing scene. I've never had children so I'm basing it on what my friends say it was like and on things they said during labor.


	23. The Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the shaman-born earns her title. The action will start near the end of the next chapter. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. That all belongs to SquareEnix. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna stared at the path that would wind through the forest and take her to her tribe’s home grounds. She and Thancred had left the escorts from Ishgard back in Limsa Lominsa and had walked the half-day’s distance from the great city to the forested area her tribe called its own. She carried Noah in a carrying cloak wrapped around her chest from her left shoulder to her right hip and tied securely. He was positioned so that he could nurse easily or even look around. At three moons, he was beginning to take notice of the world beyond his need to eat. He smiled frequently whenever he saw any of the Scions or Count Emont. He frequently babbled at his mother, Thancred, and Alphinaud who were the only three who bothered to babble back.

“I still would like to know how he managed to grab hold of Urianger’s googles,” Thancred muttered as he walked through the shaded trail next to T’lorna. “I had never seen him without those lenses covering his eyes.”

“You’d be amazed at how strong Noah’s grip can be,” T’lorna replied as she fondly patted her son’s back. “I have learned to keep my hair up and out of his grasp for now. He’s fascinated by it and by anything brightly colored or unusual. And, as all babies do, he wants to shove whatever he can into his mouth in case it might be food.”

“I have never understood why babies need to shove everything into their mouths,” Thancred said softly but with wonder.

“Don’t ask me,” T’lorna laughed. “I don’t know either.”

“So, you don’t magically acquire that knowledge just by becoming a parent. That’s depressing. I had hoped that if I ever got a child on a woman, I would wake up and suddenly know everything I needed to know to be a good father.”

“I wish it worked that way,” T’lorna sighed. “But I’m learning along with Noah and the rest of you. Think of it this way, though. When we finally get Minfilia back, all the practice you’ve had as an uncle will help you with the children you’ll have with her.”

“That is true,” he agreed. “How much longer until we reach your tribe’s home?”

“About ten more minutes. When we get there, walk behind me by about four feet so they’ll know that you’re not claiming to be my husband but that I have invited you to come with me. Stay behind me until I introduce you to my father, T’Zhiki Nuhn. Once he has welcomed you to the tribe’s homegrounds, you’ll be free to go wherever you want without me or to sit next to me without others thinking you are making a claim without my father’s permission.”

“I wouldn’t dare try to make a claim on you,” Thancred grinned. “You could gut me and turn me inside out. Besides, I remember the things you said you wanted to do to your husband while we were waiting for Noah to be born. I’m not certain I would ever want the Warrior of Light _that_ upset with me.”

T’lorna blushed but laughed. “I did say I wanted to hurt him, didn’t I? Well, part of me still wants to smack him but not like I did back when Noah was struggling to come greet the world. Believe me, having a baby _hurts_.”

“I believe you. I was there. You nearly crushed my hand. You _did_ crush Alphinaud’s.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she replied with a touch of asperity. “Give me some credit. I was out of my mind with pain.”

“And you healed it back straight as soon as you regained your energy for such spellwork,” Thancred acknowledged. “Besides, the lesson he learned from it was valuable – don’t complain about your own pain in the face of another’s greater suffering.”

“Especially when that other could very well pull your bottom lip over your head so you could taste the experience of her suffering,” T’lorna giggled. A sudden rustling from the trees made T’lorna stop and gesture for Thancred to take up position behind her. “Who goes there?” she said loudly.

“Who comes to the Condor’s tribal lands?” the voice challenged her.

“T’osin? Is that you? It is I, T’lorna. I bring a friend with me. I have come to visit our father and Nuhn and introduce him to someone important to me,” she added, rubbing the bundle tied to her front.

“T’lorna? It’s been too long since you have visited your home. T’Zhiki will be pleased to meet you and your… friend,” T’osin said as he leapt from the trees and studied the white-haired but youthful Hyur.

“He is a friend and a comrade in arms,” T’lorna said quickly. “He is not the one I am bringing to meet our father.”

“I see,” T’osin said carefully as he watched the bundle tied to his half-sister’s chest shift slightly. He averted his gaze – it would not do for him to pay too much attention to any child of hers until that child had been named and accepted to the tribe. Besides, he could see nothing with the child cradled and swaddled heavily. Shrugging, he gestured for the two to follow him and then nodded and whispered to one of the younger girls standing guard at the entrance to the tribal grounds. “I will see you to your mother’s home,” T’osin added as he led them. T’lorna said nothing – had she come alone, she would not need an escort at all.

“What was that all about?” Thancred asked a few minutes later when they were sitting on comfortable mats in her mother’s hut.

“A way of making certain that you are not some spy sent to learn more about our location. It’s an old custom,” she added when she saw her friend’s brows beetling in anger. “And the Condor tribe has always been a bit more traditional than other tribes.”

“Condor?”

“The tribal totem.” She said nothing more as she unslung her carrying cloak and freed her son so he could be laid on the cloak. She unwrapped him from the swaddling and let him explore the space by kicking his feet, reaching with his hands, and turning his head to take in his surroundings. When Noah spied his mother, a big, silly grin formed on his face and he began to coo and kick towards her. T’lorna grinned in response and shifted to hover over her son, cooing back at him and tickling his feet and belly, making him grin and snicker. Thancred watched but kept his space, his uncovered eye continually roving to the door.

They did not wait long. After less than a quarter of a bell, the door opened and a tall Mi’qote with silver-gold hair and bright blue eyes stepped in. He wore his hair braided down his back and a simple cloth tunic and pants tucked into soft leather boots.

“I heard that my wandering daughter has finally returned home with a new person for me to meet – and that it is _not_ this gentleman here,” T’Zhiki said with a polite nod towards Thancred. “How did this happen?”

“In the usual manner, Father,” T’lorna said softly. “I met a man who captured my interest and who offered me his hand in marriage. I accepted his offer and, some moons later, our son was born.”

“Someone,” T’Zhiki said as he squatted down to examine his grandson, “who is not this gentleman with you. No offense to you, young Hyur,” he added as he reached down and picked his grandson up to examine him, “but with your white hair, you could not have gifted this child with the red hair. Nor with these strange ruby eyes,” T’Zhiki added, whistling in shock. “These are the eyes of Allag!”

“And his father was of the blood of Allag,” T’lorna explained. “He was a scholar from the Gryphon tribe who I met while on an expedition in Mor Dhona.”

“Was his name G’raha?” T’Zhiki asked. T’lorna nodded, tears shimmering in her eyes as she thought about her husband. “Then that is the husband I had chosen for you. A son of his blood will be welcome to the tribe. What name have you given him? And why is your husband not with you for the naming ceremony? Did something happen to him?” he asked in concern as he watched his daughter’s face crumble and her chin tremble while she struggled to control her emotions.

“He still lives,” she said softly, stifling a sob, “but he is lost to us. He carried the blood of the Allagan Royal line, the blood that allowed him to control the Crystal Tower we excavated and explored. He felt that the world was not ready for the wonders it contained and so he locked it back away and himself with it so that, when the day comes that the world is ready, the Tower and the means to control it will be available.”

“Did he know that he would be forcing his wife and child to live without him?”

“He did not know that I carried his child,” T’lorna sighed. “I did not know until several moons later when I settled in Ishgard. Father,” she said as she dissolved into tears and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “Forgive me for not coming to the tribe when I knew I carried this child. I did not mean to shut you out. I just feared that you would be angry with me for taking a husband and bearing a child without your permission.”

“Hush now, daughter. You’re upsetting my grandson. Calm yourself, compose yourself,” her father said soothingly as he gently patted her on the back. In his lap, Noah was starting to squirm and whimper in sympathy with his mother. “Tell me his name?”

“T’Noah,” T’lorna said as she sat back and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “His name is T’Noah Tia.”

“His father’s tribe might take some exception to that,” T’Zhiki chuckled, “but I am happy to accept him in the tribe. Now, come my daughter. The time has come for you to present your son to the tribe and to take up your role as shaman. Your grandmother nears the end of her days and the tribe needs one to intervene with the spirits ready to step in when the day comes that your grandmother goes to join them.”

“Father, you know that I am the Warrior of Light,” T’lorna said slowly, sobs still overtaking her. “I cannot promise that I will ever be able to return to the tribe and live here permanently.”

“I know that, my daughter,” her father said calmly as he continued to play with his grandson. Noah managed to grasp hold of one of T’Zhiki’s fingers and seemed intent on getting it in his mouth. Her father smiled and resisted just a little before letting the baby ‘win’ and suck on his finger until he realized that he would get no food from it. Noah began to whimper fretfully and the Nuhn passed the boy back to his mother who quickly unfastened her tunic and put the baby to her breast. “But the tribe needs a shaman. If you can but promise to return to the tribe for three days out of the moon, that will be enough.”

“Are you certain of that, Nuhn Zhiki?” T’lorna asked, using her father’s formal title for emphasis.

“Do you think that we have always had a shaman amongst our number?” he replied. “It is true that your grandmother often serves during the various festivals of the year but it is not required. Three days a moon will suffice. You will hear the dreams, if there be any, you will tell the fates, if there be any, and you will heal and guide. Three days a moon are all that are needed. We will adapt easily to not having a shaman living amongst us. Should one of my younger daughters or sons show signs of being shaman-born, we will deal with that later. For now, you are your grandmother’s sole heir.”

“Very well, then, Nuhn,” T’lorna said carefully as she nursed her son, “I accept.”

~*~*~*~

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Thancred asked as T’lorna fed her son.

“I am shaman-born, my friend,” she explained as she sighed in relief. Her son had been presented to the tribe that morning and named and counted among them. She had not been permitted to feed him all day as he was passed among her brothers, sisters, aunts, cousins, and her parents to be ‘introduced’ to the tribe. By late afternoon, her breasts had begun to ache with fullness and her son had grown more and more fussy until, at last, her father brought him back to her for feeding before the ceremony began. “I have always known that it was my destiny to become the shaman. And, I am relieved that my son has found a place among my kindred.”

“What would have happened if your father had not accepted him?” Thancred asked curiously.

“He and I would have been cast out of the tribe,” T’lorna responded. Her son had drained her right breast and was still fussing. She shifted, letting him latch onto her left, and sighed with relief as he continued to feed. “My only options then would have been to visit his father’s tribe in Ilsabard or to accept life as a tribe-less one. This way, he will be formally named to the tribe this evening. I will need you to hold him while I am named shaman, Thancred. Can you do that for me?”

“As full as he will be?” Thancred quipped as he watched Noah nurse, “It will be no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, my friend. Just remember that if he wakes before dawn, it will be because he needs a clean diaper and not because he is hungry. I fear that I will not be available until after sun-up,” she explained. “And you will not be allowed to accompany me as I am raised from mere shaman-born to full shaman.”

“I see,” Thancred replied as he watched T’lorna feed her son. “Very well, then. I will remain here within this hut.”

“You may come with me when the ceremony to formally name and accept Noah begins,” she explained. “I will name you his guardian. After that, when you are dismissed, return here and calm him as best you can. One of my nursing sisters or cousins will be close by in case he needs further feeding before he goes to sleep. However, do not leave the hut until I return and am awake. The making and naming of a shaman is not for outsiders to know.”

“As you say, my friend,” the Hyur replied as T’lorna passed her well-fed and sleepy son over to him. “I will do as you say.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna winced as her son was stripped out of his swaddling and exposed, naked, to the cool night air. She managed to restrain from snatching him out of her father’s arms as she reminded herself that this was all part of the ritual. Already, Noah – or rather, T’Noah Tia – had been presented to all of the tribe. This ceremony was just to cement his membership and to formally number him under the protection of the Great Condor who protected and guided the T tribe.

“My daughter, Lorna, the shaman-born of the Condor Tribe, has married, mated, and born a son with G’raha Tia, the Allagan descendant of the Gryphon Tribe,” her father announced as he held Noah up in the light of the flickering bonfire. “I have approved the marriage and mating and welcome their child into our tribe. He will carry the lines of the Condor and Gryphon into his Allagan heritage. Know his name as Noah, T’noah Tia, until such a time as he proves himself worthy of the title of Nuhn!”

“We know Noah and accept him into the tribe,” her brothers, sisters, and cousins said in union. “Worthy of membership is he who carries the blood of ancient Allag, T’noah Tia!”

“T’noah Tia!” her father shouted as he held her son with one hand and with the other quickly reached into his waistband for the ritual dagger. Swiftly, he cut a mark into her infant son’s arm, drawing blood. Noah shrieked in outrage at the pain as her father quickly handed him back to her while he made a mark with the blood-stained dagger into the ivory circle he wore around his throat.

“Noah Tia is named and counted among the T Tribe!” Zhiki shouted. “The Condor will ever watch over him and guide his steps! Welcome the son of my daughter to the tribe! Whatever his choices, whatever his destiny, he will always have a home among us!”

“We welcome Noah Tia, the son of T’lorna, daughter of Zhiki and Shaman-Born of the tribe!” her family said in unison. “He will ever have a home among us.”

T’lorna smiled and glanced down at her still-whimpering son. She was trying to get him to nurse to calm down, but he still wanted to let the entire tribe know that he was outraged by the small initiation cut in his arm. As her cousins, sisters, brothers, uncles, and aunts filed past to get their first official look at the baby and to congratulate T’lorna, Noah began to calm a little and finally began to nurse until he fell asleep in his mother’s arms. Once she was certain he was deeply asleep and would not rouse, T’lorna passed her son to her mother who promised to take good care of her grandson.

“After all, Lorna,” her mother said with a mischievous smile on her face, “it is not every day that I get to look after royalty.”

Before she could make an equally smart-assed retort, Zhiki and two of her uncles took her arms and began to escort her to her grandmother’s hut. T’lorna did not resist them but also did not try to wrest her arms free. She had some idea of what awaited her in the hut and was not looking forward to it. Steeling herself for the trial to come, she let them guide her, praying to the gods that she would be strong enough to survive the testing.

~*~*~*~

T’usha Larin sat in the shadows of her hut as she waited for her eldest son and his two younger brothers – all the sons of her womb – to bring her granddaughter to her. She had been at Noah’s initiation ceremony and had seen her great-grandson with her own eyes – though she had been careful to keep herself to the shadows so that her spirit-touched granddaughter would not be aware of her. The boy had the blood and spirit of the Gryphon and the tenderness of his father in him. She had known that much from a simple glance. He also had his mother’s strength of resolve and determination to temper that mixture of wildness and tenderness. Though he himself was not shaman-born, he had the spirit to give life to a future shaman.

 _If_ he lived that long. T’usha sensed a strange divergence in her great-grandson’s future. She could not understand it – the spirits were not ready for her to know it – but she could sense two paths he could walk. Grasping her medicine bag and feeling the strength of the spirits that flowed from it, she sighed. It would be up to the spirits of the tribe and the spirits of the land to reveal to Lorna what must be revealed as the years rolled on.

She heard a thumping in front of her door and raised a hand. Gesturing, the skins that served as her door parted and she watched as her granddaughter was escorted inside, flanked by her uncles with her father at her back.

“Lorna of the People, Chosen by the Spirit of the Condor, Friend of the Spirit of the Deer, Called by the Great and Unknowable Mother of All Spirits,” T’usha intoned in her ritual voice, “why have you come to this place at this time?”

“I have returned to my home to present my son and to take my place as your heir and apprentice, Spirit Woman,” Lorna said calmly. Usha nodded and then gestured for the men holding her granddaughter to loose their hold. Lorna took a few steps forward and then knelt before the fire in the firepit. She could sense more than see her grandmother in the shadows. Usha watched her carefully, looking for signs of fear or eagerness. Finding only a spirit of calm, the ancient shaman of the tribe smiled in satisfaction. The spirits had chosen well.

“You are shaman-born,” Usha said calmly, her voice taking on a deeper, richer register as she opened herself to the spirits. “You will be the shaman of the Condor tribe. But I sense a divided loyalty in you, Daughter. When the time comes, where will your loyalty lie?”

“My loyalty will ever lie with the great Mother of All,” Lorna said just as calmly. “Where she calls, I will go. What she demands, I will do. Should it work to serve the tribe, I will rejoice. Should the tribe be necessary to sacrifice to her will, I will comply.”

“And what if the Mother of All demands that you sacrifice your son to her service?”

“Then I would plead with her for mercy. However, if sacrificing him would save the world, then with a broken heart, I would comply. It would be the last thing I would do,” Lorna answered honestly, “but do it I would if the Mother of All and the spirits ordered.”

“I see no such need for a sacrifice in your future,” the shaman of the Condor tribe intoned. “But your son walks two paths while you walk three. Are you prepared to walk those paths?”

“I will do as I must for the good of all.”

“A shaman can answer no differently. Are you prepared to learn to see the world of the spirit as easily as you see the world of the flesh?”

“…I am, my Mother,” Lorna said as she licked her lips. The words seemed to flow from her spirit and not her heart. “How may such a thing be accomplished?”

“Be still. Do not fight,” her grandmother advised as she nodded to her three sons. The men moved to hold T’lorna down. “Close your eyes…”

After that, T’lorna recalled the feel of a bodkin cutting into the skin around her eyes. She felt the burn of ink, of power, of magic flowing through her. She heard the words of her grandmother and those of the spirits who attended them but would never be able to repeat them. At least, not until the day came when she took her grandmother’s place testing and initiating a new shaman. Memories and knowledge not her own flooded her mind and she could see the entire history of her tribe playing out as her grandmother tattooed the marks on her eyes that proclaimed T’lorna a shaman of the Condor tribe. She could see the earliest members of the tribe eking out a bare existence in the icy hills of the far north. She could hear the debates about leaving their ancestral lands for the legendary warmth of the southlands. She could remember the long, bloody, and desperate journey south to the realms that would one day be called Eorzea. She could recall watching the Condor that was their totem as it guided her forebears to the sandy shores and forests of La Noscea. She could see the tribe adapting, doing its best to avoid any pretenders to ancient Allag and keeping its way as Empires rose and fell around it. She could see her nearer ancestors born, live, and die as the tribe cemented its rule and control over its hunting grounds. Finally, she saw her grandmother being born and then being initiated as shaman. Somehow, as she watched all of these things happen, she knew that one day she would pass these memories on to her own granddaughter. By the time Lorna regained an awareness of herself and her reality, the sun had begun to rise on a new day. She found herself blindfolded and started to reach for the cloth covering her eyes to remove it.

“Leave it be, Shaman,” she heard her grandmother say with fond patience. “For now, you will be as blind as a new-born kit. You must rely on the tribe and on your own senses to help you through the next moon. When the moon is in the same position and fullness as it was last night, the wrappings will be removed, and you will be a shaman of the tribe. This is your final test as my apprentice. Once you have proven yourself, you will be free to go once more – save for the three days per moon you must return to serve the tribe.”

T’lorna nodded in silence and let her hands fall back to her sides. She had much to consider, much knowledge to ponder, and much energy to recover. She did not protest as she felt strong, male hands heft her up and guide her back to her hut where she could sleep off the last of the ecstasy and regain her strength for the days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm loving the fanart I have seen of T'lorna and Noah. If anyone else is making fanart from this fic, let me know!


	24. The Shaman of the Condor Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we finish the interlude and get back into the action a little bit. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV -- that's all Square. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“When will we be able to go about our business again?” Thancred asked his blindfolded friend. T’lorna sighed and said nothing for the moment. It had been just a half-moon since she had been tested and initiated as a shaman. She still had a half-moon to go before her eyes would be healed enough for her to remove the blindfold and return to her duties in Ishgard.

“Another half-moon,” she replied as she blindly reached for her son and held him to her breast. “It will take that long for my eyes to heal. After that, we can return to Ishgard and do what we must. However…”

“You have to come back here for three days of every moon. I know that,” Thancred muttered as he watched her grope for her son. He knew better than to try to help her. This blindness was part of the final round of her testing. The first days after she had come back from her initiation, the Hyur had tried to help her but she had rebuffed his efforts. By now, he understood that T’lorna saw her inability to see as a test. She was learning an odd kind of compassion and patience from this ordeal. And, while he admired her for it, he realized that he himself would never be able to stand going without his sight for such a time. As it was, losing one eye had been nearly intolerable. Had he emerged from the Lifestream blinded like Y’shtola, he might very well have dragged his own dagger across his throat and been done with it all.

“I can see just fine, Thancred,” T’lorna muttered sullenly as she sat up and looked around. “I no longer need just my eyes to see. I can see things of the spirit just as easily. How else do you think I can spot you, my son, or others so quickly and easily?”

“I would assume that your other senses are in overdrive,” the Hyur replied. “I know that my hearing seemed to grow sharper when I found myself waking up after that damnable banquet. Granted, I was short on everything – clothing, food, weapons – but waking up that first night in the pitch-black darkness, I could have sworn that my hearing was clearer and my sense of smell and taste sharper. At least, until dawn.”

“What happened at dawn?” T’lorna asked curiously.

“My eyes woke up. Or rather, my ‘eye,’” he explained. “I knew that I was blinded in one eye – my left. It took me a while to adjust – I was constantly running into doorways on the left or misjudging where things where until I learned how to adapt for the loss. With you being blindfolded, I am wondering how you can cope and see as well as you do,” he admitted.

T’lorna thought for several moments before answering. “There is a glow around each of you. My grandmother would call it an ‘aura.’ It is distinct – rather like your individual scents or the way you speak,” she explained. “Your aura – your ‘soul glow’ is red, with streaks of yellow, gold, orange, and a sub-hue of lavender and grey. By seeing it, I know that it is you and not anyone else. Everyone has a slightly different aura. I can tell them apart as easily as I can tell different faces apart. I don’t know how to explain it other than that.”

“What color is Noah’s aura, I wonder?” Thancred asked.

“My son’s aura is white light mixed with pure yellow,” T’lorna replied. “That is the same with most infants. I can sense that it means that they are innocent and learning. Again, each one is distinct even if they share similarities.”

“I think I am beginning to understand,” the Hyur said slowly. “Much like I can tell the difference in tunics even if they look similar, you can tell the difference in auras.”

“Something like that,” T’lorna agreed. “There is more to it than just the visual. I don’t know if I can describe it further, though. It’s more like each person has their own aural ‘scent’ or ‘flavor.’ I could have two people in front of me with identical visual auras, but I would be able to tell them apart with no trouble.”

“I think I see,” Thancred sighed. “I wish I had your vision.”

“Do not wish that,” T’lorna said fiercely. “It has cost me a great deal to be able to see like this. And, it will be another half-moon before I can lift the bandages and begin to see with doubled-vision.”

“Alphinaud and Urianger will no doubt have a million questions for you when that comes,” the Hyur teased. “But, for now, I will leave you be.”

“Thank you, my friend and brother,” T’lorna replied. “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

By the time the final half-moon had passed, T’lorna was more than ready to have her bandages and blindfolds removed. She could see the auras of those around her as clearly as she could have ever seen their faces. The orders to keep within the tribe’s home ground were beginning to wear on her. She wanted to be out and about her business. Almost daily did Thancred remind her of the wider world waiting for her beyond the shores of La Noscea.

When, at last, the day dawned for her grandmother and father to enter the hut and remove the bandages over her eyes, T’lorna was almost ready to cry for joy. Nestled close to her chest, she could sense her son’s joy at his mother’s relief. Now four moons old, Noah had begun to roll around the tent and babble more frequently. His grasp had become stronger and just about anything he could get his pudgy fingers around went into his mouth.

“He is a strong boy, a son for the tribe to be proud of,” Zhiki said as he held his grandson while the shaman unwrapped the dressings wound around his daughter’s eyes and head. T’lorna kept her eyes closed during the unwrapping and for long moments after, letting her untested eyes adjust to the light. Blinking furiously, she opened her eyes to the light of day for the first time in a month.

“I can see _everything_ ,” she hissed as she stared around the hut. She could see not only the physical world around her, but she could also see the emanations of aether and the spiritual connections between the people around her. Their auras shone brightly, as distinct and different as their faces with shadings that told her how they felt. Around Thancred’s solid brown aura, she could see pink and red highlights that told her he was pining for his love but had hopes of seeing her again. Glancing over at her father, she could see his calm blue aura with sparkles that indicated happiness. In his arms, she could see the white-and-silver aura of her son, pure and innocent and filled with joy. Even when she closed her eyes, she could “see” and smell the pure aether that flowed through the land, the trees, and the people. “Is this what Y’shtola sees?” she wondered.

“You will have to ask her,” Thancred chuckled. “Are you ready to return to Ishgard and see what is waiting for us?”

“Yes,” T’lorna nodded as she stood up and walked over to her father to take her son back. “I have a feeling that the Mothercrystal has been as patient with me as she can afford to be. It is time for the Warrior of Light to take the field once more.”

~*~*~*~

“Ah, T’lorna,” Count Edmont said brightly as she and Thancred stepped into the manor, “we have missed you this past moon. How is my grandson? He’s grown so much since last I saw him!” the Elezen noble grinned as he took the squirming boy from his mother.

“He’s a handful,” T’lorna replied with a smile of her own. “His grandsire sends greetings to you and an invitation to visit the tribal homestead if you ever wish.”

“And your family is ever welcome under my roof,” Edmont said. “I see that you have new markings.”

“The markings of a shaman,” Thancred answered for her. The Hyur sounded as proud of her accomplishments as if they were his own. “That’s what took us so long to return, my lord. She needed time to have the tattoos heal.”

“A shaman,” Edmont mused as he chucked Noah under the chin and then rubbed the boy’s head fondly. “Some of the elder Elezen tribes in Gridania still have shamans among them. They are said to be very gifted and very wise. So, it surprises me little that the Warrior of Light is one of their number. And you, young ser,” he added, hefting Noah up so that the infant’s face was level with his own, “will no doubt wind up just as accomplished as your mother in time.”

“Twelve be with us,” T’lorna muttered, “I hope that my son never has to endure the kinds of trials I’ve lived through. It would make me happy for him to have no greater challenges in life than mastering the art of hunting and finding a trade he loves.”

“And perhaps a good wife to help him make you a grandmother when the time comes?” Thancred teased.

“Gods be good,” she hissed. “He’s _four moons old_. I think I can go a few years before I even think of him growing up that much.”

“Ah, they do grow up so quickly,” Edmont sighed as he handed Noah back to his mother. Noah squawked, tired of being held and passed around, and his mother glanced around the sitting room for the toys that would keep him entertained for a few moments while the adults talked. Spying them over on the other side of the couch, she laid Noah down on his back on the padded blanket and left him to grab at and shake the various instruments that were scattered around. “I can remember when Artoirel and Haurchefant were that small. It seems that only a few moons later, they were both men taking up arms for the House and Ishgard. Still, I can remember when all three of my sons would have been content to simply kick their little feet in the air and grasp at wooden rings,” he added as he watched Noah do just those things. “This part of their life flies by so quickly. Enjoy it while it lasts, my dear. I know that one day soon Artoirel will begin to court a woman, wed her, and then I’ll have grandchildren to watch while he continues to take on more and more of our House’s responsibilities. Still, whenever I see any of my boys, I can remember when they were still in swaddling and thought that the best part of life was grabbing at my hair.”

“He does enjoy tugging at hair. And ears. And mouths,” Thancred muttered, trying to sound sour. “And trying to eat everything.”

“Oh hush, Uncle Thancred,” T’lorna chuckled. “You know you love it as much as I do. Now, let’s go get the rest of our things unpacked. Something tells me that this will be the end of the calm before the storm.”

“Spoken like a true shaman,” Edmont laughed. “I do, however, hope you are wrong.”

“She won’t be,” the Hyur sighed. “The Warrior of Light is many things but ‘wrong’ is seldom one of them.”

~*~*~*~

The next morning proved the Hyur prescient. No sooner had T’lorna dressed herself and her son and entered the dining room than she saw Ser Aymeric and Lucia waiting for her.

“My lady, young ser,” Aymeric said with a polite bow to the mother and her child. “We have finally had a breakthrough in our search for the archbishop.”

“Oh?” T’lorna asked as she laid her son down on his padded blanket nearby while she ate.

“Early this morning, _The Soliel_ spied his airship in the Sea of Clouds. However, they lost sight of him as the ship passed beyond the territory held by the Vanu Vanu. Since that part of the Sea of Clouds is beyond our reach, we thought that you might be the best person to send scouting. It is not overly dangerous and, with Master Garlond’s help, we can have you back home in plenty of time to tuck Ser Noah in tonight,” Lucia explained.

“Or, if your stay winds up taking longer, I can send him with an armed escort to whatever location you have secured,” Aymeric offered.

“I’ll round up Alphinaud and leave Thancred here to look after Noah,” T’lorna said as she hurriedly finished her breakfast. “We’ll be in contact by linkpearl as needed.” Aymeric and Lucia nodded, made idle conversation while T’lorna finished her meal, and then left. She bent down and hoisted her son into the air, smiling at his toothless grin of delight. “Mama has to go out and help some people for a while, Noah. You’re going to stay here with Papa Edmont and Uncle Thancred. Mama should be home soon. You be good for them, okay?”

Noah kicked his feet a little and gurgled. Kissing him on the forehead and ruffling his hair – the same red hair his father had – fondly, she hurried to settle her son with his Hyur uncle and to round up Alphinaud for their journey.

~*~*~*~

“It’s strange to see you like this again,” Alphinaud muttered as Cid steered the Enterprise through the skies over Ishgard and towards the Sea of Clouds. “It’s been nearly a year since you were back on the field.”

“These months of peace have been a rare gift,” T’lorna agreed as she shielded her eyes with a hand and scouted the deep sky. “But, I have long suspected and recently come to know that they would end.”

“But you’re a mother now,” the young Elezen protested. “How can Hydaelyn demand that you give up time with your family to do Her bidding?”

“Alphinaud,” T’lorna snorted, “Hydaelyn did not call me out of retirement and send me on _this_ particular errand. The archbishop did that long months ago. And, this is the first sign we’ve had of him since he and his followers killed Haurchefant. I would have come out on this ranging even if the Mothercrystal herself forbade it.”

“Well, we’re just going to see if we can find a sign of _The Soliel_ and then determine what to do from there,” Alphinaud mused. “It’s not as if we’re about to go into battle with a primal.”

“That is the plan,” the Mi’qote agreed even if she privately felt that events were picking back up again now that autumn coming to a close. Odd, this time last year, she had just lost G’raha, the Scions, and was making a name for herself in Ishgard. She had discovered that she carried a child. In a few months, it would be one year since Haurchefant’s death. Where had the time gone? “Once this matter is settled, I will take my son to the Crystal Tower and tell him about his father,” she promised herself. “I will do that every year on his birthday so that he will grow to know and love his father even if Raha remains asleep for the rest of Noah’s life.”

“Did you say something?” Alphinaud asked as he continued to scan the skies.

“Nothing of import to you or to this mission,” T’lorna replied. “Come, let us focus on what we have come here to do.”

With that, the Mi’qote began to use her sight to search out both the physical and the aetheric signs of another ship’s passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm working on some programming classes which could delay getting the chapters done. I'm doing my best to get one per week done but the next few may be short until I finish this course.


	25. Among the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now T'lorna returns to the field and we start back on the path to Azys Lla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. That's all SquareEnix. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna and Alphinaud spent hours searching for clues from the missing airship before stumbling on a lookout point not too far from the home of one of the Vanu Vanu tribes. Standing on the edge, looking out over the vast abyss of clouds, the Elezen and the Mi’qote both started when they heard one of the bird-men shouting in pain and a Hyur voice interrupting the cries.

“Begs mercy of the netherlings!” the birdman shouted in pain. “Does not fight! Does not wish to die!”

“Imperial troops?” Alphinaud gasped in shock as he turned to see what was going on.

“Ishgardians?!” the imperial officer, a centurion from his badges, said in surprise. “Seize them! They’ll know where the archbishop is!”

“The enemy of my enemy,” Alphinaud muttered. “We’ve no choice. With me, T’lorna! Protect the Vanu!”

T’lorna unslung her staff and began hurling her spells, shielding the Vanu Vanu and healing it while she wove other spells she had learned during her confinement in Ishgard. She had picked up the basics of thamaturgy and arcane lore and expanded her knowledge of astrology. Working with Thancred after Noah had been born had helped her improve her swordwork, footwork, and skills with short blades. She called down fire on the Imperial forces, hurled spells of poison and contagion at them, and hit them with the glaring powers of the few offensive white mage spells she knew. Alphinaud added his own spells and arcane knowledge to the fight, summoning his trusty Carbuncle companion to keep the fighters busy while he and T’lorna took them down with their spells.

“Remember that Lord van Hydrus wants them _alive_!” their commander shouted. “That’s an order!”

“Lord van Hydrus?” Alphinaud muttered. “Regula van Hydrus!?”

As the Elezen and the Mi’qote worked their way through the centurion’s forces, the man grew angry and shouted. “What are you doing!? You’re a disgrace to the VIth! Subdue these savages!”

With that, re-enforcements poured in from all corners of the field.

“There’s no end to them!” Alphinaud shouted. T’lorna saved her breath and continued to weave her spells. Idly, she began to wish that she’d studied more of the physical arts of warfare. Heavier armor and bladed weapons would have been an immense help in this fight. Resolving that she would add such training to her regimen now that she was back in the field, she focused on the fight in front of her. She attacked the medical officers first, preventing them from being able to heal the other forces. She then worked on taking down the other fighters while Alphinaud focused his energies on the centurion. Any time one of the fighters broke off to attack the Vanu Vanu, T’lorna hurled her strongest spells at him while shielding the creature as best she could.

When the gunship joined the field, she almost felt despair. Whatever the Imperials were up to here, it was serious and they were determined to capture her and Alphinaud. Digging deep and redoubling her efforts, she and the Elezen were finally able to take all of the soldiers out of the fight and concentrate on bringing down the automated gunship. Once it crashed to the ground in a heap of rubble, the blonde Mi’qote sighed in relief and then glanced at her companion. Alphinaud, just barely winded, nodded in agreement and the two walked up to the Vanu Vanu.

“Netherlings save Lonu Vanu from certain death!” the bird-man chirped happily. “Showers netherlings with thanks like summer squall! Lonu Vanu knows not what wind bears netherlings to cloud sea,” he continued, “but warmly welcomes them! Shows gratitude where gratitude is due!”

It took Alphinaud and T’lorna a moment to parse the strange speech but they nodded.

“It was the least we could do,” the Warrior of Light said with a smile of her own.

“Lonu Vanu owes much and more to netherlings. As saviors, as heroes, Zundu welcome you! To village we go! To north! Come, come!” he invited them as he turned, suiting his actions to his words, and led them on.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt,” Alphinaud shrugged. “Perhaps one of the other Vanu Vanu will have something to help put us on the path to the archbishop.”

“Or some more information about why the Garleans are here,” T’lorna added.

“That too.”

Following their new “friend,” the pair headed north to the village of Zundu.

~*~*~*~

No sooner had they entered the village than they were treated to the sight of a massive white flying whale swooping through the skies nearby. The creature bellowed out its whalesong and then _ate_ a small island. Sharing a shocked glance between themselves, the Elezen and the Mi’qote wondered just what was going on.

Cid joined them a few moments later and confirmed that, for some reason, the Imperials were trying to attack the giant whale. Lonu Vanu, their guide, seemed only mildly disturbed at what was taking place in the skies nearby. He ushered them through the encampment and directed them to the tribal leader.

The leader of Zundu was sitting comfortably beneath the shade of an open overhang. He wore two great curving horns that curled back over his head. Around his neck was a feathery collar.

“Netherlings deliver Lonu Vanu from claws of steel-shod fiends and prove nobility. He knows not to ignore zephyr winds, and brings before you with all haste,” Lonu Vanu said, bowing respectfully.

“Soft rains to soothe the heart and sunshine to warm,” the chieftain said. “Gratitude of Sonu, chief of Zundu, is boundless.”

“We are honored to meet you, Chief Sonu,” Alphinaud said with his normal diplomacy. “I am Alphinaud Leveilleur, and these are my companions, T’lorna Zhiki and Cid Garlond. We are come in search of an airship – a flying vessel of the nethers – which we believe is somewhere in the cloud sea.”

“Ah, like to black steel-shod contraption from which you save Lonu Vonu?” the chieftain asked.

“Alas, no,” Alphinaud sighed. “That ship belongs to the Garlean Empire – an old enemy of ours…though not the enemy we are looking for at present. The men we seek wear armor of the purest white, and are led by an older man in white robes.”

“Wait!” Lonu Vanu exclaimed. “Lonu Vanu hear tell of these netherlings!”

“You do? Are you certain?” Alphinaud asked, incredulous at their luck.

“As sun rises and falls and returns, we are. Zundu scouts can testify to words of Lonu Vanu,” the chieftain assured them.

“Aye, aye,” Lonu Vanu agreed. “Winds carry purpose to our ears as well. Netherlings seek key to Azys Lla!”

“I would have thought they already had it,” Cid muttered and then grinned. “But now we’re getting somewhere! Tell us, Chief Sonu: what exactly is this ‘Azys Lla’?”

“Beware, netherlings,” the chief warned, “for blackest clouds portend greatest danger. Look not into the heart of the tempest. There lies ancient birthplace of sin, home of forbidden secrets. To speak more is to call the wind!”

“But the White devours isle where key is kept,” Lonu Vanu added. “Deep within bowels of might Bismarck it lies, beyond reach of the foolhardy!”

“And beyond ours,” Cid winced.

“Rejoice not in His gluttony, Lonu Vanu, for as stone gives way to water and wind, all yields to the White.”

“This he knows, Chief Sonu. Madness of Vundu bodes ill for all Vanu…”

Their conversation finished, Alphinaud began to think. He exchanged a glance with T’lorna and then nodded. “So, Azys Lla is home to forbidden secrets, accessible only to the bearer of a key which the archbishop covets… Much as I would like to believe it is safe within the belly of Bismarck, the knights of the Heavens’ Ward wield primal powers. If we do not slay the whale and claim the key first, they surely will. Quite how we will go about it is another matter. As was the case in our battle with Leviathan, we are out of our element, and this time, we have far fewer allies to call upon… Be that as it may, our customary approach still holds true. We must begin by learning more about the White. Let us each question the residents of the village, then regroup and share our findings anon.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna glanced at the position of the sun and ran some calculations in her mind. It was just after mid-morning and she knew the flight back to Ishgard would take only an hour or so. Following Alphinaud’s suggestion, she had spoken with Lonu Vanu, then Kunu Vali based on Lonu’s suggestion, and learned more about the nature of Bismarck and his place within the Vanu culture. She could see Alphinaud and Cid carrying on similar conversations with others in the village and moved to the shady overhang to wait for them to return. After a few more minutes, they joined her.

“It seems that the floating islands are gifts from Bismarck,” Alphinaud muttered thoughtfully as the three finished sharing their finds.

“Gifts which he has taken to eating, yes,” Cid replied impatiently. “Technically within his rights, I suppose, if a little ungenerous. Gods, eh!?”

“And I was only able to uncover information on skyfishing,” the Elezen sighed. “T’lorna’s information is the most useful even if we still have far to go to unravel this mystery.”

“Wait a minute… Skyfishing! My gods, that’s it! Alphinaud, my boy, I could kiss you!” Cid exclaimed.

“Please don’t,” the youth grimaced.

“I won’t,” the Garlean promised. “But, from what we have observed, Bismarck is a creature of pure instinct, driven primarily by hunger. When wounded by the imperials, it fled – but not before devouring another island to restore its strength. What I propose is this: we tow a suitably appetizing island through the Sea of Clouds, in essence “fishing” for our flying whale. Once we draw Bismarck out of hiding, we shall use dragonkillers to fire grapnels into the beast’s hide, and then reel it in close, enabling our resident eikon-slayer to engage it directly.”

“A bold plan, Master Garlond,” Alphinaud replied. “But an exceedingly dangerous one. Should T’lorna fail to subdue the creature, she would almost certainly be eaten, along with the rest of your ‘appetizing island.’”

“Oh, she won’t fail,” Cid boasted. “And, if anything does go wrong, I’ll be at the helm of the Enterprise, ready to tow her out of trouble. I wouldn’t entrust a task like this to anyone else.”

“Nor I,” Alphinaud agreed. “I trust you have no objections to my joining you as well?”

“Not at all, the more the merrier! Right, then,” Cid sighed, “it seems the boys and I have a lot of work to do if the Enterprise is to be ready for our fishing trip, while you two need to find me some bait! And not just any island, mind – I want a mouthful at most!”

~*~*~*~

Alphinaud and T’lorna spent the rest of the day scouting out potential islands for Cid’s bait, returning just as the Garlean flew back from making a trip to Ishgard to order up the dragonkillers and the chains. He took them back and T’lorna immediately returned to the Fortemps manor to check in on her son and feed him. Her chest was beginning to hurt slightly since she was a few hours late feeding him.

Noah beamed at her and began slapping his little hands on the desk when she walked into the room. Count Edmont smiled at her as he stood, carrying Noah over to her. “He’s been helping me with the paperwork. We gave him some water a bit ago to keep him from fussing.” T’lorna took her son from the Elezen and, with practiced ease, unbuttoned her shirt and began feeding Noah. “So, how did it go?”

“We have a plan that might help us get access to Azys Lla,” T’lorna replied as she sat down in one of the chairs. “After Noah finishes his dinner, I will be contacting my friends from Valhalla to see if we can round up a monster-killing team. We’re going to go whale-hunting tomorrow, it seems.”

“Yes, I heard something like that,” Edmont mused. “We heard that Master Garlond and the Ironworks requested a few dragonkillers, some large, heavy chain, and then sent runners to retrieve a magitek device of some sort. I’m assuming that you will be involved in this whale-killing operation?”

“Of course,” T’lorna said. “I can’t ask others to do what I am not willing to do myself.”

“While I can understand that point of view and am sympathetic to it, my dear,” Edmont sighed, “there are other things to consider. Yes, you are the Warrior of Light. I don’t doubt that your special gifts will be required in order to stop the Archbishop – especially if there are primals, eikons, or Asicans involved. However, you are a mother now. You owe it to your son to take greater care of your safety. I know, I know,” he said, waving off her objections, “you are also a Scion and adventuring is your life. And, while you have family and friends who will ensure that your son is always taken care of, is it not better to do whatever is necessary to make certain he is not left an orphan? What would your husband, Noah’s father, have to say about you risking your life needlessly? Let your friends from Valhalla handle the fighting if you can. I’m certain that they would agree with me on this point.”

“Some of my friends in Valhalla are parents as well,” T’lorna said after a lengthy pause. “They know that the company will take care of their children if anything happens to them. And yes, they are often relegated to the less-dangerous tasks of gathering materials, crafting, trading, or dealing with less-than-totally-lethal creatures. However, this whale is not a natural creature. It _is_ an eikon of sorts. Therefore, even if I take a lesser role in the fighting, I will still need to be there to protect the others from being tempered. I _will_ take your advice into consideration, my friend, but I must follow my destiny even if it means potentially leaving Noah to be raised by others.”

“I suppose that that is all I can ask,” Count Edmont said softly. “We’ll take care of Noah for you while you’re doing what you must.”

By that time, Noah was finished eating but wanted to visit with his mother. He pulled his face away from her chest and began waving his hands again, grinning and cooing while T’lorna refastened her clothing, wiped her son’s chin, and then burped him. She spent the next few hours playing with her son, carrying him through the gardens and talking to him, telling him about the Sea of Clouds, about Bismarck, and about eikons. Noah didn’t understand a word of it, of course, but he did enjoy listening to her and grinned his silly grin, cooing back at her whenever she stopped talking.

“I love you, T’Noah Tia,” she whispered to her son as the two of them re-entered the manor. “One day soon, I will take you to meet your papa. I promise. But tomorrow, Mama has to go fight a monster in order to help stop another monster.”

“Yamah ya ga ya!” Noah said when his mother stopped talking.

“Exactly,”” T’lorna grinned. She nuzzled him, rubbing her nose against his as he cooed and grabbed at the sides of her face.

“Ga ma ma pa ba ou,” Noah replied as he gave his mother an open-mouthed, slobbery kiss.

“Thank you, Noah,” she laughed. Taking him up to their rooms, she laid him on his favorite blanket and then handed him one of his many rattling toys. Noah shook it a few times and then shoved it into his mouth, sucking loudly for a few minutes before pulling it out to shake it again, stare at it in wonder, coo at it, offer it to his mother with more babbling, before dropping it and looking around for something else to occupy his attention.

A light rapping at her door had T’lorna rising to see who had come to visit her. She half-expected one of the other Scions or even Count Edmont. She was not prepared to see Cid and Rammbroes standing at the threshold.

“Cid told me that you’d married G’raha Tia,” the large Roegadyn said as he strode into the room to squat down on the blanket-rug next to the baby. “And he told me that you had given birth to G’raha’s son. Which,” he added as he tickled the baby’s belly, “I can see is true. He looks exactly like G’raha Tia.”

“That he does,” T’lorna agreed. She reached down and held up her son, his bright red hair spilling out over his face and his ruby eyes focusing on her face. “His name is T’noah Tia,” she said, hoisting him up so that Rammbroes could see him.

“He truly is G’raha’s son,” the large green man chuckled. “I made something for him. Here,” he said, holding out a doll that looked _exactly_ like G’raha with two ruby eyes. T’noah grasped it and cuddled it to his face, cooing and gurgling happily. When his mother went to try to take the doll away, he clutched it tightly, protesting and cooing angrily.

“He knows that it is his papa,” Cid laughed.

“Yeah,” T’lorna laughed as she tickled her son. “That’s your papa. He looks exactly like that, only bigger,” she giggled as she teased her son with the doll Rammbroes had given him. “One day, you’ll get to see him and he’ll look exactly like your doll.”

“Ga ga goo doo da do da ma!” T’noah cooed.

“He is adorable,” Rammbroes laughed as he chucked T’Noah under the chin. “His eyes are exactly like his papa’s. At least, right after G’raha returned from fighting the Cloud of Darkness. Do you think your boy will one day be able to control and open the Crystal Tower?”

“We’re not going to make any attempt to find out,” T’lorna said pleasantly but firmly. “I miss G’raha but I will bow to his wishes and open the Tower only when the world is ready for it. Not before. Not even if T’noah could control the Tower. Not even if his children and their children and eventually every Miqo’te could control the Tower.”

“Still, I wonder what G’raha will think when he wakens in the future world and finds out that he left you alone to raise his child,” Rammbroes wondered. “How will he take the news that he missed everything? I know that I hate being away from my own children but the thought that I would miss more than just a few days of their lives would fill me with terror.”

“We’ll never know how or what G’raha will feel,” T’lorna shrugged. “Now, did you just come here to try to guilt trip me into opening the Tower or did you have some other purpose?”

“No, I just came to visit. Like I said,” the Roegydan explained, “Cid had mentioned that you’d had a son. I wanted to bring a gift to help you answer questions down the road when your boy wonders what his father looked like or was like. Also, I sent word to the Students of Baldesion and they’re ready to welcome G’raha’s son if he shares his parents’ bent for study.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” T’lorna grinned. “For now, however, he seems happiest staying here with his mother and slobbering on a doll that looks like his father.”

~*~*~*~

The next day T’lorna woke early, fed her son, and then set out to meet with the others. As she approached the airship docking grounds, she saw that most of Valhalla had turned out to help with the fight to come.

“Where’s my nephew?” Jinpu demanded as they walked onboard the Enterprise and prepared to set out.

“He’s staying with his Grandpa Edmont. If all goes well, we’ll celebrate tonight and you can all come meet him then,” T’lorna grinned.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring him with you,” Syris said. “After all, it’s never too early to start training him in being a warrior.”

“He’s four months old,” Geralin pointed out. “I doubt he could do anything but drool at an enemy.”

“If he drooled enough, it would create a slick trap we could use to knock down the runners,” Syris said.

“I am not going to bring an infant into a battle,” T’lorna groaned. She could tell by their expressions that they were joking.

“He can also probably cry pretty loud,” Jinpu pointed out. “I’ll bet that T’noah could shatter eardrums if he was upset.”

“We are not going to test that theory,” the Warrior of Light laughed. “Until he can walk and hold a stick without hurting himself, he is not going to be joining Valhalla on the field.”

“Spoilsport,” Jinpu teased. “Well, it’s probably for the best. If he takes after his father, he’ll be terrible at following basic instructions without asking a half-dozen inane questions.”

“Oh, G’raha wasn’t _that_ bad,” T’lorna said with a roll of her eyes. “Only two of his questions were completely inane. The other four were just completely unrelated.”

“Nitpicker.”

“Whatever. So, what do you guys think of the plan?” she asked as the ship began to sail up towards the Sea of Clouds.

“It will work. It’ll be tight,” Jinpu replied, his tone growing serious, “but it will work. I got your images of the island you’ve picked out and I talked with Cid about how the dragonkillers will be positioned. We’re going to have to make defending them our primary objective once this killer flying whale of yours realizes that they’re the cause of his misery. The only problem I see is that the harpoons are made for dragons, not whales.”

“How is that a problem?”

“Dragons have hard, scaly hides that require a lot of strength, weight, and sharpness to punch through,” Jinpu explained. “So, harpoons for them are very long, narrow, and consist of a series of arrow-head protrusions so that the dragon can’t just rip them out and fly off without inflicting even more damage on itself. Whales, on the other hand, have softer skins. They rely on blubber and their size to keep their internal organs safe. The best harpoons to use on whales are barbed, not arrow-head. I’m afraid that these harpoons are just going to go straight through the creature since they’re too sharp to get hung up in the blubber. We’re probably going to have to use a lower-power firing setting to prevent that. Otherwise, the harpoons will just cut their way through the whale. Oh, that will kill it, certainly,” he added, “but it might kill it out in mid-sky instead of letting us pull it in and use the island as an anchor point so that we can butcher the beast and get this key you need. If this were a normal whale, we wouldn’t have to worry since it would float up on top of the water after dying. But, once it’s dead…”

“…it’s not going to keep flying.”

“Yep. And then trying to spiral down to find the corpse after it falls Twelve only know from what height will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A bloody, messy, stinky haystack scattered over malms and malms of land.”

“That’s a mental image I could have lived without,” T’lorna muttered.

“Yeah, so, to try to prevent that from happening, I’m asking Syris, Geralin, and some of the others to wrap chains and shackles around parts of the beast when we get it reeled in. That way, even if the harpoons cut their way out, we still have it bound.”

“Sounds like a good thing,” T’lorna agreed. “Let’s hope it works out that way in the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being late. I've been busy with end-of-year stuff and with a tech class. However, this week should be better so I'm planning to sit down and get several more chapters done so that I have a bit of padding again.


	26. The Key to Azys Lla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the beginning of the key to Azys Lla. So, how well does T'lorna return to the field? What does she think about her son? How does her being a mother change things? Read and find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. That all belongs to Square Enix. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Dragging the island into the path of the great, white, flying whale took most of the day. As they dragged it, Jinpu and the other mechanically inclined members of Valhalla set up the dragonkillers. T’lorna watched them with admiration. She herself had no real talent with mechanical devices but found them fascinating. She was a little better when dealing with devices that relied on magic of some kind to function but even with her extra sight from becoming a shaman, she could not get a read on purely mechanical devices.

Once the dragonkillers were set up and the island in position, it became a waiting game to see if Bismarck would turn up. T’lorna settled herself in to wait, trying to ignore the fact that her breasts seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each passing hour. She shifted her weight, doing her best to unobtrusively reposition her breasts. However Syris, with his eagle eyes, spied her and started laughing.

“I see someone is twitching like she fell into itchweed,” the Elezen quipped. “Something _weighing_ on you?”

“Shut up,” T’lorna winced. “I can’t wait to get back to Ishgard so that Noah can eat, and I can feel better.”

“Does it really feel that good? To… er… feed a baby, I mean?” Syris asked, stammering and blushing.

“Not good in the sense you’re thinking,” T’lorna snorted. “But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Then why are you twitching so much right now?”

“Imagine that you really need to go to the privy but, for whatever reason, can’t. So, you’re holding it in. Multiply that by two and move the sensation to your chest.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. That sums it up nicely.”

“Well, you won’t have long to wait to relieve your chest-bladders now,” Syris muttered as he shaded his eyes with a hand. “Looks like Bismarck has decided to take the bait.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna managed not to shudder as the great, white, flying beast swooped near. She had known that Bismarck was massive but she had not been able to properly judge just how massive he was. But here and now, up close to the creature on an island near the one they were using for bait, she could see that he was larger than the largest airship she had ever seen. He wasn’t as large as the Garlean warships but he would have given many of them a run for their gil.

Bismarck bellowed as the dragonkillers slammed into him while he fed and struggled against them, tearing himself free, before they could drag him to the island adjacent to his former snack. The creature seemed to realize that the cause of his sudden injuries was on that island and commenced his attack.

Gale force winds, great spouts of water, and quakes when the beast slammed his bleeding body against the isle threatened to take down all of the Valhalla fighters. T’lorna did her best to dodge and weave amongst the attacks, casting her shields and her healing spells as best she could. Still, for such a battle, she was far slower than she had been before her pregnancy. She had less stamina as well. Several times she was forced to take command of one of the dragonkillers in order to catch her breath as she tried futilely to hook the whale and drag it in, keeping it immobilized.

After the second try, the hooks managed to get snagged on the whale’s spine and were able to drag him in so that the fighters from Valhalla could break through the armor-plating on Bismarck’s spine and uncover the sensitive spinal nerve. T’lorna heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the fighters and magi from Valhalla clamber aboard Bismarck’s back and begin reigning blows down on it until a section of plating flaked off, exposing the spinal nerve. Underneath her feet, she could feel the great whale shuddering, shaking, and screaming as the attacks continued until, at last, the nerve was severed and Bismarck was close to death.

The attacks redoubled, then. T’lorna found herself slamming her strongest spells against the exposed spinal nerve instead of shielding and healing her friends. At last, Bismarck shuddered, screamed, and then went still.

“Drag him in!” she heard Jinpu shout. The dragonkillers groaned and the chains clanked as Jinpu and Lokira worked the devices to drag the whale’s carcass onto the isle. When it was finally laid flat, T’lorna stared at it, her face turning pale at the stench.

“Now the _fun_ begins,” Jinpu laughed as he hopped off the dragonkiller and unsheathed one of his many blades. T’lorna sighed as she reached into her pack to bring out a long, sharp butcher’s blade. Though she could wish the stink of the whale’s carcass was less thick, she knew what needed to be done. Moving over towards the throat, she made a long incision that ended where Lokira had made her own cut. The rest of Valhalla spread out, carving open Bismarck’s body and butchering it the way they would have field-dressed a deer. It took several hours but, at last, they had dragged the large stomach and intestines out onto the island.

“Twelve protect us,” T’lorna gasped at the stench. She threw an arm over her mouth and nose and tried to force the contents of her own stomach back down. However, within a few moments, she was kneeling near the side of the island, retching and vomiting into the empty sky below.

“Are you all right?” she heard Geralin ask.

“No,” she groaned as the smell hit her again, making her stomach heave.

“Let’s get you out of here before you pitch over the edge,” the Elezen muttered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her over to the Enterprise. Cid and Alphinaud carried her down to the lower decks of the ship and let her lay in one of the empty cabins facing away from the isle. For nearly an hour she lay on the bunk, gasping for air and doing her best to force her stomach to settle. The fact that her chest ached with need for her son did not help matters. However, as the butchering on the island ended and the smell began to dissipate, T’lorna found it somewhat easier to keep control of her body.

“We think we found it,” she heard Lokira mutter in the hall outside her chamber.

“That looks like a key from Allag,” Alphinaud replied. “Let’s show it to T’lorna. She had more experience than the rest of us with Allagan ruins.”

T’lorna rose from her bunk and walked over to the door. Opening it, she nodded to Lokira and Alphinaud and held out her hand for the key.

“It took us a while,” Lokira muttered, “but we finally found it. Or at least we think we have. What do you think of this? Is this an Allagan key or just an oddly-shaped rock from one of the many islands that Bismarck has eaten?”

“Let me see,” T’lorna said as she held out her hands for the stone. It was covered in slime and bile and stunk to the highest heaven. Still, she clenched her jaws, inhaled through gritted teeth, and let her spiritual vision take over.

Warm lines of aether emanated from the stone. With her shaman-sight stripping away the bile, guts, and slime, she could see that this was a highly-imbued stone set with carvings that matched any she had found in her research of Allagan ruins. Her sight showed her the sheer power of the stone and she shivered as its power washed over her.

The room went dark. She blinked several times and found herself standing on that strange platform of crystals that Hydaelyn had used. Three crystals shown brightly and a fourth began to glow. Softly, she heard the Mothercrystal calling out to her.

“Warrior…Light. Beloved… Hydaelyn. All made… Darkness…like to none…known… Hark…receive…blessing…more…”

The darkness faded into a burst of pure light and T’lorna found herself standing in her cabin, holding the slimy stone. Then, a portal of shadow magic opened near her. An Ascian, garbed in black robes with purple accents, and the Archbishop, stepped through the dark portal and into her cabin.

“So falls the Lord of Mists, as did all others before him,” the Ascian said. She spoke in a soft, feminine voice. “How many times does this make, Warrior of Light? Ahhh, how much you have grown – far beyond the limits of mere mortals,” the Ascian sighed.

“She has what we seek?” the Archbishop asked his dark companion.

“That she does. The key to Azys Lla and the secrets of Allag,” the Ascian woman said.

With a quick, sudden gesture, the Ascian hurled a bolt of dark magic at T’lorna, catching her off-guard and hoisting her into the air. The Warrior of Light turned her head, stunned to see Alphinaud and Lokira frozen, unseeing, on either side of her. The key was wrenched from her hand, falling at the Ascian’s feet.

“I see you have regained the Blessing of Light – albeit at a fraction of its former strength,” the woman continued. Black magic washed over the stone, lifting it into the air and carrying it to the Archbishop who took it and gazed at it longingly.

“My thanks to you, Ascian,” he said, “and to you as well, Warrior of Light, for saving us the effort of slaying Bismarck. Now that the key is within our grasp, the path to the heavens shall at last be laid bare!” The archbishop whispered a soft incantation and the key floated up from his hand, the blue sphere on its face turning until the key transformed, its sides springing out like wings. A three-dimensional glyph appeared in the air above it and turned, twirling into a pyramid. A bolt of arcane energy shot from it, aiming off into the far distance. The archbishop laughed in amusement. As his airship pulled up alongside the island, he gestured again and the key regained its previous form and floated back down into his grasp. He and his Ascian companion walked back to their ship and took the gangplank back aboard. “By our deeds shall the wrongs of antiquity be righted, and man reclaim the reins of history!” the Archbishop shouted in triumph.

The ship then flew off in the direction that the beam of light had shone. After a few minutes, the spell holding T’lorna aloft faded and she was able to regain her feet. Whatever spell had washed over the others also ended and they stared at her in shock. All seemed aware of what had happened but none had been able to move.

“Well, let’s go after them!” T’lorna shouted. “We can’t let them get to Azys Lla uncontested!”

~*~*~*~

The company returned to the continent, seeking out more information. Alphinaud and T’lorna made their way to Ok’Zundu, hoping to learn more from the tribe of Vanu Vanu. However, before they ventured very far into the village, they sensed and saw Imperial forces holding the beastmen at bay. Creeping up slowly on the Garlean forces, they listened in, hoping to learn something to their advantage.

“Wait,” Alphinaud cautioned. “Something is amiss…” he and T’lorna ducked behind one of the buildings, observing the Zundu and the Garleans. The Imperial forces had surrounded the Zundu chieftain and his advisors. Though their weapons were sheathed, the threat was clear. “Imperial troops,” Alphinaud hissed. “And they have already secured the area.”

Their leader, a man in gun-steel grey armor with a horned helmet, glared around as if he sensed something amiss. “Reveal yourselves at once!” he shouted. Alphinaud exchanged a glance with T’lorna and the two stood up and walked into the midst of the Garleans. “And there I was expecting more beastmen,” their leader muttered calmly. “Who are you?”

“I thought Isghardians responsible for the disappearance of our scouts,” a calm voice, regal and cool, said from in the distance. T’lorna shivered as she watched Varis yae Galvus, the heir to the Imperial throne of Garlemald, walk into the clearing. “But I see now that I was mistaken,” he finished. He wore the crown of the Emperor, his long, light-gold hair spilling down his shoulders and back and his golden irises cold and hard. “Just as Roaille observed,” he muttered. “The Warrior of Light is wont to appear at the most inopportune times.”

“The Warrior of Light?” the grey-clad fighter asked. “She who bested van Baelsar?”

“It would seem that the famous hero of Eorzea seeks Azys Lla as well,” the Emperor muttered. “Hardly unexpected. The secrets of the Allagans’ power to bind eikons to their will could scarcely fail to interest the Scions of the Seventh Dawn… You know as well as we what will ensure should these insatiable creatures be allowed to roam free – that their very existence threatens the life of this star. We but disagree on the solution to the problem,” Varis sighed.

“Genocide has ever been the Empire’s favored recourse,” Alphinaud accused with T’lorna nodding in agreement. “And that is why we will continue to oppose your every attempt to claim Eorzea!”

“You do not hesitate to speak your mind… even when your every word could be your last,” Varis said with a wry smile of approval. “Alas, your sentiments betray the narrowness of your view. The fate of Eorzea and its inhabitants is of little concern to the fate of the world. ‘Tis my solemn charge as emperor to bring the eikons to heel. If this requires the extermination of certain elements, then so be it.”

The imperial soldiers saluted their emperor and then ran to encircle the Zundu chieftain as they unsheathed their weapons.

“No, don’t!” Alphinaud pleaded. “They are not his thralls!”

Suddenly, several explosions near the Garlean forces knocked them down. T’lorna glanced at Alphinaud, wondering if the Elezen had something up his sleeve that even she did not expect. Alphinaud stared at her in the same manner.

“Take cover!” Lucia’s voice called out from the shadows. She dropped down next to the Warrior of Light and Alphinaud in a white magitek fighter.

“Your Radiance,” the grey-clad fighter said as he stepped between Varis and the device. “We must withdraw!”

A blinding bolt of fire fell down over the Emperor and his lackey. T’lorna followed its origin and spied a Garlean warship high overhead.

“We shall meet again, Warrior of Light,” Varis promised. “On that you have my word.”

“So Garlemald, too, has designs on Azys Lla,” Alphinaud muttered as he watched the Emperor escape. “But why would the Emperor himself elect to lead the expedition? You know,” he added with a slight shudder, “never in my wildest dreams did I think I would stand less than twenty paces from the Emperor of Garlemald… Varis zos Galvus in the flesh… I assume the commander that accompanied him must be the legatus of whom the centurion spoke. Ah, forgive me,” he sighed, shaking his head as if recalling where he was, “this is neither the time nor the place for such idle speculation. Pray return to the Enterprise at once. It occurs to me that our friends may have run afoul of imperial forces as well. I have yet to apprise Chief Sonu of all that has occurred, but once I have, we will rejoin you at the airship.”

~*~*~*~

“Thank the Twelve you’re alive, T’lorna!” Cid exulted as the Warrior of Light walked up to the Enterprise. “When that battleship appeared and fired on the village, we feared the game was up for you and Alphinaud. What in the seven hells happened out there?”

T’lorna quickly gave him a run-down of the events and the Garlean engineer sighed. “First the archbishop turns up with an Ascian in tow, and now the godsdamned _Emperor_ pays us a visit!? What is this, a procession of notable bastards? Who’s next? The Keeper of the Seventh _bloody_ Gate!?”

Just then, Alphinaud walked up and answered Cid’s question. “No one so ‘notable,’ Master Garlond. I am happy to report that the Zundu were overjoyed to learn of Bismarck’s demise.” Turning to T’lorna, the Elezen continued. “Chief Sonu sends his warmest regards, T’lorna. There was much talk of westerly winds.”

Lucia then walked forward, speaking. “Miraculously, none suffered lasting harm during the raid,” she reported. “It would seem the Zundu were taken entirely unawares, and wisely chose to offer no resistance.”

“I sense they have no more to fear from the Empire, for the present,” Alphinaud added, “at least. Had the Emperor truly been intent on their extermination, Ok’Zundu would already have been leveled. Plainly, Varis is only interested in reaching Azys Lla.”

“Speaking of which, if you’re all ready to continue the chase, the Enterprise is as well. Shall we?” Cid asked. “Lest you wonder, Wedge was able to calculate the heading indicated by the beam of light emitted by the key. If Azys Lla lies in that direction, we’ll find it,” he promised. T’lorna nodded. At the very least, they could figure out the best entry point to Azys Lla. Her breasts ached, however, and she hoped it would not take long to trace the entrance. She needed to return to Ishgard and feed her son. She knew, from hints dropped by her mother and grandmother, that if she went too long without feeding her son, she would suffer from a fever that would pain and weaken her and leave her unable to offer him sustenance. Noah was only a few moons old – he needed his mother’s milk to sustain him for at least another year or more before he would have milk teeth strong enough to take in solid food. Most Mi’qote mothers nursed their children a full twenty-four moons before weaning them to solid food. Noah could count less than six moons. She would not risk depriving him of her milk for at least another twelve moons.

“I need to return to Ishgard,” she said softly but insistently. “I need to tend to my son before we set out after Azys Lla.”

“I see,” Cid sighed. “Very well. Let us return to Ishgard and make further plans there. After all, I would not deprive my nephew of his favorite meal.”

T’lorna flushed slightly but nodded in agreement. Stepping aboard the airship, she sighed in relief as Cid steered it back towards Isghard and her son.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed in relief as Noah latched on to her breast and began sucking in earnest. When she had entered the manor, she had heard him screaming in hunger and frustration. His uncle Thancred had been quick to turn to red-faced, red-haired babe over to his mother. T’lorna had already been unbuttoning her top and yanking it aside so that her son could eat.

“I’ll never get over how a woman’s chest can go from a sight of desire to a kitchen in just a few short moons,” Thancred muttered as he watched T’lorna feed his nephew. “We have been trying everything we could these past few bells. Count Edmont even summoned a wet-nurse. But Tiny Kit refused to eat. It was making me a trifle desperate,” the Hyur admitted.

“Children know their mothers,” T’lorna sighed in relief as Noah drank eagerly from her. “They won’t easily accept a substitute unless they are starving.”

“So, how is this going to work out? Hyur children are generally weaned at twelve moons. Is it different for Mi’qote?” Thancred asked as he watched T’lorna switch her son from one breast to the other.

“Mi’qote mothers generally nurse their children for twenty-four moons,” T’lorna replied as she heaved another sigh of relief. “After that, we nurse less frequently as we introduce our children to more solid food. But Noah is less than six moons old. As he nears twelve moons, I will begin to feed him from my own plate.”

“From your own plate?” Alphinaud asked in confusion. The younger Elezen kept his gaze averted though a blush seemed to take up permanent residence on his face and neck.

“Yes,” T’lorna explained. “I eat normal food. Well, _more_ than I normally would, since I am nursing,” she added. “However, when Noah is close to twelve moons, I will chew up some of what I would normally eat so that it is soft for him and then put it in his mouth. He’ll chew it with his few milk teeth and then swallow.”

“That is _disgusting_!” Alphinaud shouted.

“That is the natural order of things,” T’lorna sighed. “Mothers of many species chew the food for their young. Mi’qote are no different. Of course, by then, Noah will be standing on his own and using his tail to balance. Mi’qote children can generally walk unassisted by twelve moons and can talk by thirteen moons. Granted, he won’t have very profound things to say,” she grinned. “And those who are taking care of him should be prepared for him to repeat the same sentence dozens of times. By the time he is weaned and I allow myself to suffer through the milk-fever, though, Noah will be able to speak in complete sentences, walk a goodly distance on his own, and start to reason in very basic terms.”

“What to you mean by ‘basic terms?’” Alphinaud demanded.

“Well, it’s like this,” she sighed. “He’ll know that you have pointed ears. And that your ears are not like his. And he will ask you where your tail is. You’ll have to explain it dozens of times before he learns that he is not the same as you. Same for Thancred. He’ll wonder why your ears are rounded and why you don’t have a tail. He’ll grow _very_ curious about your beard and may try to pull it out.”

“That sounds like fun,” Thancred grinned.

“Oh, I did the same thing to my own father, apparently,” she laughed. “Still, at around twenty-four moons, he’ll start to realize that not everyone is like him. He won’t understand why. Part of your jobs, as his uncles, will be to patiently explain many times that you are not like him and _why_ you are not like him. However, by the time he has seen five winters, he’ll understand that and will be able to comprehend it.”

“So when I can start teaching him to read?” Alphinaud asked curiously.

“That, I can’t answer for certain,” T’lorna sighed. “I started picking out words at thirty moons. But some of my brothers and sisters couldn’t pick out letters and words until they were seventy moons or more.”

“And when will we know if he can control the ruins of Allag?” Thancred asked. “I know and respect that you do not want him to be forced to open the Crystal Tower ahead of time. Still, if he can control and help us to understand Allagan ruins, that would be _very_ useful.”

“Perhaps,” T’lorna conceded as Noah finished eating. She heaved a vast sigh of relief. Her breast no longer ached with fullness. “If Noah can help us to learn more about Allagan technology, I will not interfere. However, I will not allow him to be forced to open the Crystal Tower until the rest of the world is ready for such a thing.”

“I know,” Thancred sighed, “and, for all that I disagree with your decision, I will respect it. Now, though,” he said, his tone changing from one of acceptance to one of anticipation, “what will we do about Azys Lla?”

“If Cid and the others can discern a way to enter the region,” T’lorna replied, “then I will take Noah with me. I will rely on you and Alphinaud to set up a safe basecamp for him so that I won’t have to return to Ishgard to take care of him. That means, however, that you will be in charge of ensuring his safety.”

“I could see us doing that,” Thancred replied.

“Then, it seems like all that is left is for us to find the key to entering Azys Lla,” T’lorna sighed. “Let’s see what Cid and the others have uncovered.”

By then, Noah had finished eating and had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. T’lorna hefted him to her shoulder and patted him on the back until he let loose a belch. Though he did not awaken, she easily shifted him and undressed him, cleaning his diaper and dressing her son in clean, dry clothes. Handing him over to his uncle Thancred, she sat back and dug into her own dinner as her thoughts raced. Would she be able to access Azys Lla without her son? What secrets awaited her in the forbidden realm? Would Noah grow up and accept the choice she had made for him concerning his father? Or would he resent her for refusing to allow him to be a pawn to open the Crystal Tower ahead of schedule? And what would Raha think when he awakened to find that his bloodline had continued? Would he hate her for leaving him sleeping and ignorant?

With a sigh, T’lorna finished wolfing down her own dinner and then retreated to her chambers to sleep _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Do you think becoming a mother is going to alter things a lot for T'lorna? Or will her being the Warrior of Light override her being a mom? Also, do you think I should detail the events of Stormblood or keep them short and sweet? You have some time to consider your answer before I set up an official poll.
> 
> \-- G.K.


	27. Entering Azys Lla (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After talking to her son and making some promises that will play out down the road, we begin to work our way into Azys Lla. This may take a few chapters but it will be worth it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. That is all Square Enix. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna woke the next morning feeling sorer than she had in ages. “I should have expected this,” she muttered to herself as she stumbled out of bed and staggered over to the crib where Noah slept. He was just beginning to rouse from sleep as his mother reached down and hefted him into her arms. He cooed happily, waving his hands, and grinning at her with his toothless, gaping mouth.

“I love you, too, my son,” T’lorna smiled as she carried him over to the changing table. She quickly switched out his diaper, wiping him clean and dressing him in dry clothing. Settling the wet and dirty night clothes in a bin, she carried him over to the rocking chair near the fireplace and pushed down her own nightgown. Sighing with relief as he latched on and began to feed, she let her mind drift.

The events of the previous day had been more trying and harrowing than she had imagined. Once, she could easily have fought through numerous battles without breaking much of a sweat. However, now that she had taken time off the field of battle to give birth to and tend to her child, she knew she was no longer in the same fighting trim she had once taken for granted.

“I will have to work harder to get back up to speed,” she whispered to her son as he ate, oblivious to his mother’s worries. “I cannot afford to be too soft or too out of shape,” she explained to him. “Remaining in such a state means that the day when I will be unable to return to you is much closer than it should be. And I _will_ see you grow up, my son,” she promised as she switched him from one breast to the other without a pause. “I will not be just another story or dim memory. You have already lost enough with your father choosing to close himself up in the Crystal Tower,” she sighed sadly. “I will not have you remember me through stories that Urianger and Y’shtola have told you as you grow and seek to avenge my memory. I will live to see you wed to a woman who is worthy of you. I will live to dandle your children on my knee and to tell the stories of when you soiled your diapers and cried if I did not get you dinner fast enough. I will tell your wife and your sons of your first stumbling steps, of your mispronunciation of common words, of your childish logic and reasoning that will make sense to you but will be worth many hours of laughter to those of us who have grown far beyond your simple imaginings. I will remind you, when you are a man full-grown and proud of yourself, that you once screamed and cried in the night at imagined terrors. I will remind you of the many nights you crawled into my bed, seeking comfort from monsters spawned from your own mind. I will remember your stumblings, your cuts and scrapes, your mistakes and missteps. I will even remind you of your first foolish longings and how you chased after women who had no interest in you, convinced that you could somehow win their affections. I can see the day when you will try to measure yourself against your Uncles Thancred and Aymeric and wonder why you fall short – never understanding that it is their years of experience that give them the advantage over your burgeoning youth. But,” she sighed softly as she lifted Noah to pat him on the back, “to do those things, I will have to sacrifice some of my time with you now. You’re going to spend more time with your uncles, aunts, and grandparents so that Mama can train and build up her strength and stamina again. Otherwise, I might not be able to keep these promises.”

Noah let loose a massive belch and his mother smiled as she lifted him up to look her in the eyes. He grinned at her toothlessly and waved his hands at her, gurgling and cooing. She kissed him on the forehead and then set him down among his toys while she dressed herself and began making her own plans.

~*~*~*~

“You took the long way around to get here,” Cid muttered as he watched T’lorna jog over to where the Enterprise was docked. “I swear, I watched you lap through the airship yards three times. Training for a marathon?”

“Just trying to get back in fighting trim,” she said as she gasped for air. “I’ve not been keeping up as well as I should.”

“Well, you’ll have time to rest as we follow the trail into Azys Lla,” the Garlean muttered. “And I wouldn’t worry so much about trying to get back into shape so quickly. You did well enough in the fight against Bismarck. No one could have stopped the Ascian thief. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

“I don’t,” T’lorna sighed. “But I was far more exhausted after the fight than I should have been. If I want to survive to see my son grow up, I need to regain all the ground I’ve lost over the past year.”

“That I can understand. Still, don’t push yourself too hard,” he cautioned. “You don’t want to be walking into a battle too sore, too exhausted, and too injured to do any good.”

“I’ll be careful,” she promised.

Just then, Lucia and the others came to join them, bringing a white magitek armor suit with them. They clambered aboard the airship and Cid took off to follow the beacon towards Azys Lla. T’lorna watched Lucia as she stared at the contraption. The Miqo’te started to explain what it was and how it worked but Lucia’s words cut her off.

“I did not think that I would ever have occasion to pilot a suit of magitek armor again – least of all under these circumstances,” the blond knight said softly. She then reached up and removed the circlet she wore over her forehead and turned to reveal her Garlean eye to T’lorna and Alphinaud. Both Scions were briefly taken aback at the sight of it but said nothing, sensing that Lucia needed to tell her story in her own time. “My full name is Lucia goe Junius, and I was born a citizen of Garlemald.”

“Ah, that explains it!” Cid laughed. “When we first met in Ishgard, I very nearly called you Livia.”

“Livia…?” Alphinaud muttered. “Livia sas Junius? The tribunus who served under Gaius van Baelsar!?”

“Aye,” Lucia explained. “She was my sister – though we spent little time together. After our parents were killed in an uprising, we were sent to live in different households, setting us on separate paths… Livia felt at home on the battlefield and chose to become soldier, while I underwent training to become a spy.”

“Then… Ishgard was…?” Alphinaud asked.

“My mission,” Lucia confirmed. “‘Twas believed that Allagan relics of great worth were stored in the Vault, and I was sent to investigate. Though I was given little information at the time, I now suspect I was searching for the key we but recently lost. And then I met Ser Aymeric. ‘Twas his usefulness to my mission which prompted me to approach him, but I soon found myself drawn to him for other reasons. He too was a prisoner of his past – judged for his heritage as a bastard son of the archbishop. Yet unlike my sister and I, he did not curse his fate. He simply rose above it. In time, I came to realize that I had found a man worth following, and a new home besides. And when I subsequently confessed all to Ser Aymeric, he was good enough to accept me into his service.”

“…I do not question your loyalty to Ser Aymeric,” Alphinaud said. “‘Tis your loyalty to your sister which concerns me.”

Lucia turned her gentle green eyes on the Elezen and smiled softly. “I have long been of the opinion that those who dwell in the past risk losing sight of their future. My sister fought for her convictions, and for those she held dear. So do I. So must we all.”

“Well, I for one am happy to welcome a fellow Garlean to our merry band – especially one who can make magitek armor sing!” Cid called out over the rush of wind.”

“Chief, we should be getting close,” Biggs warned.

“Once we break through those clouds, we’ll be right where the light was pointing – right where Azys Lla should be!” Wedge added.

“Hold on, everyone!” Cid shouted. He turned the ship towards the cloudbank. Soon, the fog of the clouds began to part and the blue sky was replaced with a noxious green. The clouds themselves looked dirty, dingy. T’lorna could see Allagan ruins floating in the distance and wondered at how filthy the region looked. Mor Dhona was clean and clear.

“Look!” Cid shouted in triumph. “I think that’s it!” He banked hard, steering towards the large, floating landmass that looked almost like a massive floating airship and fortress rolled into one.

“Chief, is that…?” Biggs asked.

“Allagan, aye,” Cid answered. “There’s no mistaking their handiwork.” He steered the ship in yet closer but hit some kind of barrier that nearly knocked all of them off their feet.

“What was that!?” Alphinaud cried.

“Some sort of barrier!?” Cid muttered angrily. He tried to press through it, searching for some sort of give in the shielding.

“She won’t hold, Chief!” Wedge cried out. “She’s breaking up!”

“I’ve lost the auxiliary propeller!” Biggs hollered.

“Cid, it’s no use!” Alphinaud shouted. “We must return to Ishgard and find another way!”

“Damn it all! Why do the Allagans always have to make everything so bloody complicated!?” Angrily, Cid turned the ship back about and headed towards Isghard.

“I guess they locked the shield back in place after they entered,” T’lorna sighed as she regained safer footing and watched as the sky went from brownish-green to clear blue. “We’ll have to figure out a way to break through it. Maybe something akin to what we did to gain access to the Crystal Tower?”

“And we’d barely finished repairing the damage incurred during our skyfishing trip,” Cid grumbled. “On the other hand, any landing you can walk away from, as they say,” he muttered as he flew them through the clear sky back to Ishgard to regroup.

~*~*~*~

“It looks like the Vanu’s key is required to pass through the barrier protecting Azys Lla,” Alphinaud sighed once they disembarked at Ishgard. All of the ship’s passengers looked harried and harassed and the ship itself bore scars from the encounter. “But even without it, we must find a way to reach the isle. I shall have everyone convene at the Seat of the Lord Commander, that we might discuss how best to proceed.”

“I’ll meet you there shortly,” T’lorna promised. “I’ll go gather up some of my notes from the Crystal Tower and from my own later research in Mor Dhona.”

“Very well. We’ll reconvene there,” Lucia and the others agreed. T’lorna decided to make another series of treks through Ishgard, building up her stamina and finding that the Echo was helping her to regain strength and endurance. She then returned to the Fortemps Manor, fed Noah and spent a few minutes playing with him before hurrying up to her rooms and pulling out her notes on Allagan technology and the research she and G’raha had done. Taking a few minutes to organize them and make a few updates, she stuffed them into her satchel and then headed over to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly to meet with the others.

Entering the sanctum, she waved to the guards and pushed open the door to Ser Aymeric’s office. Alphinaud, Cid, Count Edmont, and Lucia were already standing around, giving updates to the Lord Commander.

“…In summary,” Cid was saying, “the isle owes its lofty position to the industry of the Allagans. And we can be all but certain that the archbishop and his cronies are enjoying the view from its top.”

“I see,” Aymeric sighed.

“If we are to join them, we will first need to pass through the isle’s aetheric barrier – which is, alas, more powerful than most. Powerful enough to make a mess of a perfectly good airship, at any rate… As far as I can gather, the barrier mechanism draws aether from the surrounding environment, and polarizes its elemental aspect to produce what is, in effect, a wall of lightning.”

“It seems plain that without the Vanu’s key, any attempt to reach the isle will end in failure,” Alphinaud replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alas, the key was careless enough to leave without us,” Cid quipped, “and I don’t think the Vanu keep a spare.”

“Master Garlond,” Aymeric asked, “based on your experience, is there no other way that we might breach the barrier?”

“Well, in the past, we’ve beaten similar barriers by nullifying them with elemental converters. But the one we’re up against this time dwarfs aught we’ve encountered before. The Enterprise simply _isn’t_ large enough to bear the requisite amount of crystals.”

“I am reminded of the quantity needed to nullify Leviathan’s command of the sea… A veritable mountain of crystals that could only be borne by lashing two galleons together to form a ‘twin vessel’ scarcely able to propel itself, much less fly,” Alphinaud said.

“That said,” Cid added, “we’re not without options. If it isn’t feasible to nullify the barrier, we might try _piercing_ it.”

“How?” Aymeric asked.

“We create a ram of condensed aether and mount it on my ship. There’s just one problem – I don’t have the faintest idea how to build one. It’s going to take a true authority in the field, I reckon.”

“I believe I can help on that score,” T’lorna volunteered. “I have extensive notes on Allagan technology from the Crystal Tower and my own research. On top of that, I’m certain that Y’shtola and Urianger will be more than willing to provide their expertise in this endeavor.”

“Hah, fortune favors the righteous, eh?” Cid laughed. “Well then, let’s not waste any time. While you go and look for answers, I’ll work on modifying the Enterprise. Her hull will need reinforcing to bear the punishment, not to mention a mount for the ram. Just you wait, my pretty,” he grinned, “by the time I’m finished, you’ll be an airship reborn!”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna gaped at the vast Great Gubal Library as she and the others made their way through it, defeating the monsters that sought to bar their way to the knowledge they needed to construct Cid’s aetheric ram. At Y’shtola’s suggestion, they had paid a visit to her old master from Sharlayan, Master Matoya who had pointed them in the right direction.

“How could anyone ever consider giving this up?” T’lorna wondered as she gazed in awe at the high, vaulting bookshelves stocked with more books than she had ever imagined existing.

“Your husband used to lose himself in this place for days on end,” Y’shtola teased. “I think that he knew this library better than any person currently living.”

“Once we get this place cleared of monsters, I plan to spend a lot of time here myself,” T’lorna laughed. “Imagine teaching Noah to read from the books in here. It could be that when we finally rouse his father from slumber, Noah will know far more about this library than Raha ever thought about learning!”

“That would be interesting to see,” the white-haired Miqo’te grinned. “Still, we’ll have to post guards to keep monsters from creeping back in. Perhaps some enterprising guards in Ishgard would be open to such things.”

“Perhaps,” T’lorna nodded. “If one of the great Houses decides to boost their prestige and influence, having their guards here could be more than useful to them and to us.”

~*~*~*~

“So, you’ve regained another Crystal of Light,” Y’shtola said after T’lorna came out of her Echo vision following the fight with the final guardian of the Great Gubal Library. “That should be useful. Did you see anything else in your vision?” T’lorna shook her head. “Then let us take the tome back to Master Matoya. Do we have the right one?”

“It says it’s On Aetheric Convergence. That’s the one she wanted.”

“Then let us take it back to her.”

The journey from the library back to Matoya’s cave was short but scenic. T’lorna found the beauty of the Dravinian lands calming. In the distance, she spied some great object covered in a translucent shield. Promising herself that she would return to study it further at a later date, she followed Y’shtola, Thancred, and Alphinaud back to Matoya’s cave. Once there, she handed the tome over to the wizened and bent old woman who muttered that it was the correct tome, much to everyone’s relief.

“I had not thought to behold this tome again,” Matoya sighed as she set it on the table and reverently opened it. She raised her staff and directed her energies through it and into the tome. “There. It is deciphered. Now your friend should be able to make sense of the contents. That said, it’s one thing to understand the workings of the aetheric converger and another to actually make it work. You do realize how much aether is required?”

“Cid is keenly aware of the energy dilemma,” Alphinaud explained. “His airship is by no means large, and it can only bear a limited quantity of crystals.”

“If only we had white auracited and the aetheric siphon,” Y’shtola lamented.

“Alas, Minfilia is missing, along with both artifacts,” Alphinaud sighed, bowing his head in sorrow. “And Moenbryda is gone…”

“Would that there were another ready wellspring of energy for us to draw upon…” Y’shtola mused. The two seemed to suddenly realize something together and shared a glance.

“Why did it not occur to use before?” Alphinaud wondered. “We already have what we need: the Eye! It has been drawing aether into itself for as long as the great wyrms have lived! It is a veritable wellspring of energy!”

“Hm, it might just suit our needs,” Matoya agreed. “But is this energy something that can be harnessed at will?”

“I believe so – with the aid of the Azure Dragoon of Ishgard.”

“Then it is settled,” Y’shtola said with finality. Let us return to the Holy See at once.”

T’lorna and Alphinaud walked out of the cave but Y’shtola hung back to speak with her former master. When she emerged back into the sunlight, the white-haired Miqo’te seemed mildly irritated but refused to speak of what she and Matoya had discussed in private. T’lorna thought little of it as she closed her eyes and transported herself back to Ishgard through the aether.

“Whatever it is, it is none of my concern until she wishes to tell me,” T’lorna reminded herself as she made her way to the Lord Commander’s Seat to seek out Estinien and the rest of the means of entering Azys Lla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Also, I will be setting up a poll on my personal site to see if I should do a full version of Stormblood or if I should skip around a lot and get into Shadowbringer ASAP in the next month or so. Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments!


	28. Entering Azys Lla (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'lorna thinks about the people she has lost as they make their way into Azys Lla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. That all belongs to Square Enix. I'm just playing around in this universe.

The meeting with Aymeric was not as smooth as T’lorna had hoped. She explained what they needed and how they thought it would work but Aymeric still had questions.

“And you are certain that the Eye can lend its power to Master Matoya’s aetheric converger?” he asked, his doubt clear in his voice.

“At Estinien’s command, yes,” Alphinaud replied confidently.

“Very well. I shall speak with him,” the Lord Commander agreed mildly.

“My thanks, Ser Aymeric,” Alphinaud said politely.

“Nay, my friend, ‘tis I who should thank you – as should every Ishgardian. You labor in our name, with nary a care for your own safety.”

“Let us next speak with Cid,” Alphinaud said as he turned to address T’lorna and Y’shtola. “He will doubtless be eager to being work on the aetheric ram.”

T’lorna followed Alphinaud and Y’sthola down to the airship docking grounds and walked up to Cid. The Garlean seemed excited – almost beside himself with eagerness – to hear any news of their progress. The Enterprise looked almost new. The repairs had, seemingly, gone off without a hitch.

“Ah, you’re back!” Cid said happily. “The preliminary work on the Enterprise is more or less finished. Tell me you found a way to build the aetheric ram!”

“Greetings, Cid,” Y’shtola said softly. “It has been a while.” She then reached into her satchel and drew forth the tome they had found in the Great Gubal Library. “This tome contains the fruits of my former master’s research on a device known as an aetheric converger. Our ram should operate on the selfsame principle.”

Cid flipped through the tome and nodded in satisfaction before turning his attention back to the white-haired Mi’qote. “Ack, where are my manners?” he muttered to himself. “Put a toy like this in my hand, and I go off into my own world… Gods, it’s good to see you! And bearing a gift besides – a very distracting one, if I might add. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was my nameday. But,” he sighed, “there will be time for tearful reunions later. I’ll make a start on the tome right away. So long as I have a grasp of the fundamentals, I should be able to knock something together. Which leaves the small matter of the energy source…” he trailed off.

“We believe we have found a solution to that problem as well,” Alphinaud offered. Just then, Aymeric and Estinien approached.

“Pray forgive us our lateness,” Ser Aymeric asked politely. As the Lord Commander spoke, Estinien reached into his pouch and drew forth the Eye. It blazed with power, red ribbons of aether floating off of it like smoke.

“The power of the Eye is not to be drawn upon lightly,” the Azure dragoon said calmly, “but I believe we have sufficient cause to do so.”

“So this is the fabled Eye,” Y’sthola sighed. “By the Twelve… it _seethes_. ‘Tis a wonder such power can be contained, much less controlled…”

“Boys!” Cid shouted. “Our friends have kindly provided all the ingredients. Let’s see if we can’t make something out of them!”

“You heard the chief,” Biggs said to Wedge. “We’re not resting till the aetheric ram is operations! Not one wink of sleep!”

Wedge grumbled under his breath and bent over at the waist. With that, Estinien passed the Eye over to the Garlean and the trio set out to begin constructing the aetheric ram while T’lorna, Alphinaud, and Y’sthola returned to the Fortemps manor to wait for news and prepare for the next move.

~*~*~*~

By the next morning, word came that Cid was ready for departure. T’lorna hurriedly made her rounds through Ishgard, stopping to speak to Lucia, Hilda, and Tataru before returning to the Fortemps manor to say her good-byes to Edmont. She had packed up Noah’s toys, food, and clothing, planning to take him with her to Azys Lla in case his bloodline would be of benefit as well as to keep him with her. She had left word with Valhalla to be ready to join her on the moment and had gotten instructions for her daily workouts from Geralin and Syris.

“How good of you to pay me a visit,” Edmont said with a soft smile as T’lorna ducked into his office, Noah riding on her hip. He grinned at the baby and cooed softly, causing Noah to wriggle and begin babbling. Edmont then gestured to his steward who hurried out of the room and returned a few moments later, bearing the shield that Haurchefant had carried into his last battle. “He would dnot have told you,” Edmont said as he took the shield reverently in his own hands, “but when Haurchefant begged me to accept you into our household, he described you as ‘hope incarnate.’ At the time, I assumed he was waxing lyrical, as was his wont. But I have come to see that he simply spoke the truth.” Edmont sighed and then stood to present the shield to T’lorna. “You _are_ hope – a shining beacon that shall guide the people of Ishgard through the raging snowstorm,” he said firmly. T’lorna took the shield with a shaking hand and wrapped the long strap over her shoulder, slinging the shield over her back. “A memento,” Edmont explained. “Were my son here, he would have wished to fight at your side in the battle to come. Take care, my friend, and return to us!”

“I swear that I will return to you as soon as the fighting in Azys Lla is over and the archbishop and his Ascian allies are defeated. I will come back and learn the arts of the paladin in honor and memory of Haurchefant.”

“See that you keep that promise,” Edmont sighed, “and that you bring my grandson back here. I would give all that I own to see him grow to manhood and to become a warrior of even a tenth of the renown as his mother.”

~*~*~*~

 _The beacon of hope towards which all men are drawn._ Y’shtola’s words still rang in her ears as the Enterprise soared out among the clouds. Heavy in her satchel, the white auracite Urianger had brought her seemed to drag at her soul, the final gift from the late Moenbryda and a chance for vengeance for the fallen. On her back hung the shield that Haurchefant had used to protect her and that his father had bequeathed to her. And, on her finger, beneath her glove, was the plain gold wedding band G’raha had slipped on her finger.

So many reminders of those whom she had lost. So many ghosts crowding her consciousness, gifting her with their strength as she watched the skies begin to darken to a sickly greenish-brown.

“Gods go with us and keep us safe. I pray that one day I will stand in your company again,” T’lorna whispered softly to herself. Y’shtola might call her a beacon of hope but, to the Warrior of Light, those whom she had lost were _her_ beacons in an increasingly dark and dangerous world. “So many hopes weigh on my shoulders,” she muttered. “To end the Dragonsong War, to bring the archbishop and the Ascians to heel. To stop Garlemald from taking control of Eorzea. To end summonings once and for all. To be ready to stave off another Calamity… And I must needs face these things alone, without your strength to guide me and bolster me when I grow weary. I must _be_ this beacon of hope whether I will it or no.”

Just then, Cid’s shout of warning broke her thoughts. “This is it!” the Garlean shouted. “Get ready!”

Everyone on the ship – T’lorna, Cid, Biggs, Wedge, Alphinaud, Y’shtola, and Estinien – braced for the impact that was coming. Estinien reached into his satchel and drew forth the Eye that would make the ram work. Holding it aloft, he seemed vaguely satisfied at his part in the effort.

“Eye of mine enemy!” he shouted over the din of rushing wind. “Render unto me thy power!”

The Eye flashed and began to spill its power into the Azure Dragoon. Estinien struggled against it and T’lorna could sense that the struggle was for his very soul. If he lost control and was consumed by the Eye, he could turn on them, changing in an instant from friend and ally to deadly enemy. She watched with bated breath as the Elezen struggled to master the Eye. Finally, he forced it to send its power into the ram Cid had built onto the re-christened _Excelsior_ ’ _s_ prow. Aetheric energy spilled out of the ram, forming a scarlet-tinged blade of light.

“Ugh… No…” Estinien swore as he struggled again against the Eye. “You will not claim me! I am the master!”

The Eye continued to fight against him even as he forced it to do his bidding. The ship drew nearer to Azys Lla, the blade hitting the shield around the floating continent. For a moment, the ship shuddered and T’lorna wondered if even the Eye contained enough energy to overcome the barrier. Aetheric power flowed freely until, at last, with the sound of breaking glass, the shield buckled enough to admit the ship through a hole.

“We’re through!” Alphinaud said in triumph. The group aboard the ship began to celebrate but Cid held his ground, a look of worried consternation on his face.

A few malms beneath them, a Garlean warship emerged from the thick, grey fog that shrouded the region. It dwarfed the small airship, a mighty whale to the minnow that was the _Excelsior_. Rising behind the airship, its massive guns trained on it, the Garlean warship loomed like death.

“Chief!” Biggs shouted. “We’ve got an imperial battleship on our tail! And it’s bleedin’ massive!” Just then bolts of energy shot from the imperial warship’s guns. Cid took evasive maneuvers to try to avoid them as best he could. Still, the _Excelsior_ was out-gunned and out-matched.

“Damn it!” Cid growled. “The bastards were waiting for us to open the door for them! I’m going to try to shake them! Hang on to something!” he warned the others.

“Uwaaaaaah!” Wedge screamed. “We’re all going to die! Tataruuu!”

One of the energy bullets hit the _Excelsior’s_ airbags, threatening to sink the skyship. T’lorna felt herself losing balance as she struggled to stay on her feet on the pitching and yawing deck.

“She won’t take much more of this!” Biggs warned.

Just then, rising out of the sky below them, came Ysayle’s voice. “The time is come to use Hydaelyn’s gift.” T’lorna glanced over the edge of the ship and saw the silver haired Elezen riding on the back of Hraesvelgr. She held a Crystal of Light that blazed with power. “Much blood has been spilled in my name,” she said. “And for what? For a false cause that I created for want of the warmth of companionship. Saint Shiva… Hraesvelgr… Pray forgive this fool,” she prayed. “But even now, I cannot let go of my dream – my dream of a tomorrow in which no child need freeze alone in the snow.”

Hraesvelgr let loose a mighty roar that made the very air tremble. T’lorna shivered at its power. Then Hraesvelgr, with Ysayle clinging to his back, soared up in front of the airship. Wheeling effortlessly through the sky, he wove and ducked, dodging the Garlean warship’s bolts easily. Over the mighty warship he flew and Ysayle leapt from his back, falling through the air without a care, without worry. Other dragons flew around her, their mighty wings beating in the sickly air.

“Is that… Ysayle?” Alphinaud asked. “What does she mean to do!?”

“O goddess born of mine own hopes and dreams,” Ysayle prayed. “For the last time, I beseech you!” Bolts from the airship took down her young dragon companions, leaving her alone, falling head-first through the sky. “Fill this vessel with your light! Still the hatred within our hearts and bless us with eternal grace!”

The air around her crystallized into ice, encasing the Elezen in the cold element and transforming her, by her faith and her own power, into Shiva. As Shiva, she flew through the sky with the same effortless grace as the dragons. By mere thought, she froze the bolts of energy speeding towards Cid’s airship, encasing them in ice. The great Garlean warship gave over its pursuit of the smaller vessel, focusing its attention on the primal instead. Shiva wove through the air, ducking, dodging, and spinning towards the airship, her power making several of the large guns explode. She drew their attention, giving Cid time to chart a course to safety. T’lorna and the others watched in horror as the bolts of energy drew closer to the tiny target until, at last, one struck her down.

With the last of her energy, Shiva spun through the air, transforming herself into a veritable spear of ice. She rammed the Garlean warship head-on, forcing it off-course and causing severe damage. In its death-throes, the airship refocused on her, striking her again and again with bolts of fire and energy until, at last, she began to plunge through the skies.

“Farewell, Warrior of Light,” T’lorna heard Ysayle say with the strange tremor of power in her voice that indicated she was still joined spiritually with the primal Shiva. “And thank you – for showing me the way.”

“NOOOOO!” Alphinaud screamed, reaching out a hand as if that would somehow forestall Ysayle’s death.

“This aether… It was a Crystal of Light,” Y’shtola muttered in surprise. “She, too, was one of Hydaelyn’s chosen…”

“Fare you well, my lady,” Estinien said softly. T’lorna bowed her head in sorrow as she gave honor to the fallen Elezen woman. Now, she had another ghost to stand at her shoulder, urging her on to fulfill her destiny.

~*~*~*~

Cid was able to steer the wounded airship to a safe landing area. With the Garlean gunship unable to pursue them, thanks to Ysayle’s sacrifice, the group abroad the _Excelsior_ were safe for the moment.

“Whew…” Cid sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to be back on solid ground – even if said ground is floating in the sky. When that imperial battleship appeared, I honestly thought we were finished. And we would have been, had your friend not arrived when she did.”

Alphinaud stood behind Cid, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed with grief. “Twelve grant her mercy,” he whispered. “Brief though our time together was, Ysayle was a true friend – a gentle soul who fought for her beliefs. She… she would have made a fine Scion.”

“What is a Scion but one who fights for our cause?” Y’shtola replied. “Our hopes survive thanks to her sacrifice. Let that be enough. Yet I cannot help but wonder: how came she to know of our presence here?”

“From Hraesvelgr, I would wager,” Estinien replied. “He will have felt my channeling of the Eye’s power. It would seem they were able to make peace with one another in the end.”

“She gave her life because she believed in us,” Cid said simply. “We owe it to her to see our mission through.” Alphinaud lifted his gaze and then nodded. “See that dome-like structure further in?” Cid asked. “Let’s make our way there.”

T’lorna watched as the others disembarked and began making their way towards the structure indicated. She hung back for several moments, communing with Hydaelyn, with the spirits of Haurchefant and Ysayle. She sent her thoughts to the missing Minfilia and to her slumbering husband G’raha, asking each of them to give her the strength she needed to do what must be done. Then, squaring her shoulders, she set out to follow the others, determined to be that ‘beacon of hope’ which Y’shtola had called her.

“We have reached Azys Lla,” she said to the fallen and the missing. “Let us hope that the price of entry grows no higher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be busy packing up this next week and moving so the next chapters may be delayed.


	29. The Ruins of Azys Lla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we start the exploration of Azys Lla...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of many chapters that I owe. I can post four tonight -- the other two that I owe should come out this week. I *just* got my new computer a week ago and have been working my tail off to get caught up.

After exploring the landing zone, T’lorna made her way up to where Cid and the others had gathered. She had found a large, abandoned aether crystal and attuned to it, making it easier for her to travel back to Azys Lla from Ishgard. Sighing and rubbing her chest to try to ease the ache of her breasts, she walked over to Cid to see what he had uncovered.

“The isle’s sentinels don’t seem to frequent this area,” the Garlean said softly. “We should be safe here. So, let’s talk strategy, shall we?” He glanced around the area and nodded in satisfaction. “First of all, in the interests of efficiency, I suggest we make this place our base camp. We can coordinate the search for the archbishop from here. That means that, once we have some tents set up, you could even bring Noah here so that you won’t have to travel back and forth to Ishgard. There will always be someone at the base camp so he will be relatively safe. With the airship being nearby, if we need to get him out quickly, we can.”

T’lorna nodded in thanks. She had been wondering just how she was going to take care of her son while she was out in the field.

“I have no objections,” Alphinaud agreed. “Now that we stand upon Azys Lla, I am struck by the vastness of the isle. We must needs be methodical if we are to find our quarry.”

“Good,” Cid replied. “Now, unless I’m mistaken, this used to be an airship landing, and a major one at that. From what I know of Allagan design, there should be a terminal nearby that’s linked to the isle’s operational heart. If we can find such a terminal, we should be able to learn something of the archbishop’s whereabouts. Let’s split up and look for it.”

The group nodded in silent agreement and then split up to search for the terminal. T’lorna, based on her studies with her husband and her later study of Allagan technology, had a better than average idea of what to look for.

“This terminal has long since ceased to function,” the Garlean muttered. “Search for another.”

Closing her eyes and sending her aetheric senses out, she noticed a place just a few yalms from where they had been standing. The signatures of the area were promising so she moved over to it and studied the ruined terminals. Biggs was standing nearby, examining the ancient remnants of what had once been a vast network of terminals and aetheric devices.

“This place is an engineer’s playground,” Biggs laughed. “If I had the time, I’d be going over it with a bleedin’ magnifying glass.”

“To think that such a massive structure has been floating above our heads for all these millennia…” Alphinaud sighed as he walked around the area. “It beggars belief.”

“Alas,” Y’shtola sighed, “I have found naught of use.”

“This ominous presence,” Estinien groused. “To whom does it belong?”

“The Empire borrowed most of its technology from Allagan relics,” Biggs explained. “If we can find the terminal, I reckon we can operate it.”

T’lorna nodded and closed her eyes again, sending out her aether to find a different location. Again, it was not far from where she stood. Alphinaud had gravitated towards it. Moving to stand there, she sent out her aether to probe it.

“I daresay this landing could accommodate even a Ragnarok-class vessel. Remarkable. What ungodly vessels must the Allagans have built to warrant so vast a landing?” the young Elezen wondered, breaking her concentration. Huffing in frustration, T’lorna sent her senses out a third time and found a spot just a little further away. Approaching it, she noticed that Estinien was standing near it. She walked over to it and examined it further. The dragoon turned to her and sighed.

“Machines are beyond my ken – I shall leave it to the others to find this ‘terminal,’” he muttered sullenly. “Of more concern to me are the dragons that I sense nearby.”

 _“Great,_ ” T’lorna thought to herself. “ _Dragons. I wonder what other surprises this place has in store for us._ ” She continued to send out her senses but found nothing of interest. Growling, she wondered if Raha would have been able to find something of use. “Dammit, Raha,” she whispered to herself as she explored the ruins in the area, “why couldn’t you have just shut down the damned Tower and stayed with us? You would probably find a million things I am missing. Had you stayed awake, you could have been of much better use. But now, you decided to _lock yourself away_ and left me to try to explain to _our son_ why he will never know his father. You left it to me to try to teach our son about his heritage.”

Wincing in defeat, she wandered back over to where Cid stood studying some of the ancient Allagan devices left in a heap.

“Nothing?” he asked as she shook her head and shrugged in defeat. “Damn it. There’s just this terminal, then, but it doesn’t respond to anything I do. Any bright ideas, Wedge? Wedge?” Cid repeated, glancing around in consternation. “He was just here a moment ago. Oh, don’t tell me he’s wandered off…” Cid groaned. “I’m sorry, T’lorna, but could you help me search for him?” he asked. “Absent-minded as he is, I worry that he’s strayed beyond the landing area, and made friends with the local sentinels.”

“Of course,” T’lorna agreed. At least this was _something_ useful she could do. She moved through the ruins, taking care to avoid some of the more aggressive guards. She had no desire to fight a battle that might sap her of her strength – strength she would need to make the aetheric journey back to Ishgard, collect her son and their necessary belongings, and then return through the aether shielding Noah and their things. At last, she reached an outcropping looking over a cavern and felt a tingling that told her that someone was nearby. Concentrating on it, she stood calmly and prayed that the person she sensed was the Lalafell and not someone more sinister.

“Owww…” she heard Wedge moan from nearby. Scanning the area, she saw the Lalafell laid out on his backside near an outcropping of white stone.

“Wedge!” Cid shouted as he and Biggs rushed up. “Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine, Chief,” Wedge muttered. “I just tripped, that’s all.”

“Fool of a Lalafell!” Cid cursed. “What were you thinking, coming here on your own!? Death by overwork is one thing – death by _stupidity_ quite another!”

“I’m sorry, Chief,” Wedge apologized. “B-But I think I’ve found something!”

“What is this?” Cid asked as he studied the ruined half-sphere buried in the ground near Wedge. “The wreck of a sentinel?”

“This is no wreck, Chief!” Wedge protested. “She’s still operational!” Wedge gave the half-buried sphere a kick. Bright blue lights began to shine in runic pathways around the sphere as it shook itself free of the earth. Springing into the air, it hovered and began emitting energy. T’lorna shivered – the energy pouring out of it reminded her of the Crystal Tower and the Eight Sentinels. “See?” Wedge said proudly as he gestured towards the sphere.

“*blip*” the sphere rang. “Initiating… Performing diagnostics… *blip* Diagnostics complete. To proceed, please agree to the terms and conditions of use.”

“I…suppose…” T’lorna muttered in confusion.

“Thank you,” the sphere said. “To register as a user, please state your name.”

“I’m Wedge,” the Lalafell said excitedly, “and that there is T’lorna!”

“*blip* User registration complete. Welcome to Azys Lla, Master Wedge and Mistress T’lorna. I am Guidance Node G-LI.”

“That fool of a Lalafell,” Biggs muttered, “always making us worry… And he’s already gone and named the node! Can you believe it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wedge muttered softly, his head bowed, “I promise to be more careful from now on…”

The node began to move back towards the area they had selected for their base camp. With shrugs and looks of uncertainty, they followed it until, at last, it stopped in front of the massive ruined terminal blocks.

“*blip* Greetings, Mistress T’lorna,” the node said as it came to a stop. “Is there something you wish to know?”

“This device serves as an aetheryte,” Alphinaud muttered as he approached it, “yet it is not made of crystal. To think that the Allagans could emulate the properties of so fundamental a substance…”

“Did you find anything?” Estinien asked.

“No, nothing at all,” Y’shtola whispered.

“Hm,” Cid sighed. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind, but it might just serve. Wedge, bring the nod this way, would you? There’s something I’d like to try.” Wedge guided the sphere over to where Cid had indicated. Once it was in place, the Garlean crossed his arms over his chest and began speaking to the device. “Node!” he said in a commanding tone, “I need a status report on the facility!” The guidance node began to interact with one of the abandoned terminals. Several screens appeared. T’lorna could sense the flow of controlled, almost mechanical, aether between the sphere and the terminal.

“Yes, that’s it!” Wedge told the node. “Good girl!”

“Ah, here we are,” Cid said cooly. “Hmmm, not much of note,” he muttered as he studied the read-outs. “It appears someone recently reactivated ‘Helix,’ which is this area.”

“Reactivated, you say?” Alphinaud pressed.

“By the archbishop, I’d wager,” Cid replied. “I daresay he woke the place up when he used the Vanu’s key. Are there any other people in the facility?” he asked the node. “If so, where?” More read-outs appeared. “Let’s see here… On the ‘Flagship’ – that’s the central isle,” Cid explained, “I’m seeing positive readings within the Aetherochemical Research Facility and the Fractal Continuum… And what have we here?” he wondered. “Intruders detected in the Gamma Quadrant, defense system engaged.”

“Our imperial friends, I suspect,” Y’shtola ventured. “I hope they enjoy the defense system. But what of the archbishop and his cronies?”

“Hmm,” Cid mused. “What might offer an indication? Ah! How about this: Which area is currently consuming the most energy?” The node glowed for several minutes before the read-out changed. Cid leaned in and studied it, nodding to himself. “Somewhere called ‘Triad Control,’” he replied. “Inside the research facility.”

“And what manner of place is that?” Alphinaud demanded.

“It is, and I quote,” Cid said, “‘a regulation facility for the ‘Warring Triad’ test subjects.’ And that’s all it says. The rest of the information is only accessible to users with consular privileges.”

“I mislike the sound of this…” Y’shtola said slowly, “which leads me to believe that this is indeed the place.”

“I am inclined to agree with Y’shtola,” Alphinaud sighed. “Whatever it is that the archbishop seeks, it is like to be there.”

“That settles it, then,” Cid said firmly. “Let’s find a way to cross over to the Flagship.”

~*~*~*~

As they stood discussing possible routes to the Flagship, T’lorna listened carefully to the others’ thoughts. From her own research into Allagan artifacts, she knew that the trip would not be as simple as taking a marked path. It would, no doubt, involve activating the devices in order to reach the Flagship by teleportation – much like she and Valhalla had been forced to do to reach certain parts of the Crystal Tower.

“The Warring Triad…” Alphinaud mused. “I somehow doubt they are amenable to negotiation.”

“The Warring Triad puts me in mind of a tale from my childhood,” Y’shtola replied. “It told of three gods locked in a perpetual conflict.”

“Three gods?” Alphinaud yelped in surprise. “Definitely not amenable to negotiation, then.”

Turning to the node itself, T’lorna reached out and touched it. “Greetings, Mistress T’lorna,” the node – whom Wedge was calling Gilly – said. “Is there something you wish to know?”

“Tell me how to reach the Aetherochemical Research Facility,” T’lorna said softly.

“Determining a recommended location for routine inspection… Location determined. *blip* Requesting access to the Aetherochemical Research Facility… Access granted. Generating route… *blip* Route generated. Commencing guidance to chosen destination. Please be aware that the designated route may take you through restricted sectors, and that the isle’s defense systems may attempt to terminate you,” it warned pleasantly. “Be kindly reminded that, in accordance with the terms and conditions of use, you and your party assume all risk of damage or injury, including death, that may occur en route to your destination.”

“What in the Fury’s name _is_ that thing?” Estinien demanded as the node began to float past him. “Are we to follow it? I shall leave you to deal with it, then.”

“Promise me you’ll take good care of Gilly!” Wedge called out as T’lorna began to follow the node. “Don’t let any harm come to her!”

“First Maggie, and now Gilly,” she heard Biggs grouse. “Maybe we should have let him have that dog.”

“Should you need to return to Ishgard for supplies, you can use that standard to signal for an Ironworks airship, just as before,” Cid said quickly. “When your business below is done, let our man at the airship landing know, and he’ll ferry you back here to resume the mission.”

“Send for my son,” T’lorna replied quickly, her eyes still glued to ‘Gilly.’ “Keep him here at the basecamp. Hopefully, I will return shortly with more information.”

Cid nodded in agreement and began issuing orders to his Ironworks personnel. T’lorna walked after the node with Y’shtola and Alphinaud following in her wake.

“Though we know little of the node,” Y’shtola remarked, “we know still less of the facility at large. Let us see where it leads us.”

“Can the guidance node be trusted?” Alphinaud asked. “I know not, but we have few other options. Let us see where it leads us. T’lorna, Y’shtola, Estinien – we four shall proceed to the research facility. Cid, the Excelsior is our sole means of escape. Pray remain here and have her ready to depart at a moment’s notice.”

“I will do that,” Cid agreed. “I can send a manacutter back to Ishgard to retrieve Noah. That way, the Excelsior will still be here when you need it. If anything happens, just let me know via linkpearl.”

“Be on your guard, my friends,” Alphinaud warned. “The enemy could be anywhere.”

~*~*~*~

As they trekked through the floating isle of Azys Lla, T’lorna began to wonder what special manner of madness would have led to the creation of such a place. True, this “Warring Triad” may have needed a prison house of sorts – something well isolated and difficult to reach – lest it be turned into a weapon against the entire world.

“But still,” she thought to herself as she watched the floating node interact with a second teleportation device, “why something so large? And why does it seem like it pollutes the air around it? The Allagans had a sense of artistry and aesthetics. The Crystal Tower and many of the other ruins we’ve founded scattered around Eorzea show that. What would lead them to make something, then, that is so hideous? Or was it always this ugly? Could it be that the energies stored within the island have slowly been seeping out, creating this brown-green sky and this feeling of oily wrongness in the very air we breathe?”

“Are you certain it is wise to trust this orb with our lives?” Estinien groused.

“That node is not what it seems,” Y’shtola said firmly. “From amidst the metal, I sense the gaze of a living being. Have care around it.”

“The matter conduit appears to operate on the same principle as the aetherytes. How remarkable that it should still function after all this time…” Alphinaud muttered in amazement.

“According to my records,” the node said in its tinny voice, “this conduit was last serviced approximately five thousand and fourteen years, six months, eleven days, and thirteen minutes ago. That it should function without mishap may be described as a miracle.”

~*~*~*~

They continued to make their way through Azys Lla, activating various teleportation nodes and following Gilly. At times, T’lorna and Estinien were forced to fight their way through unnatural, chimerical creatures. As the day grew into night, they reached the section that Gilly termed “the Gamma Quadrant.”

“This matter conduit, too, was last serviced five thousand and fourteen years, six months, and eleven days ago. An old Allagan saying comes to mind: once is a miracle, twice is fate,” Gilly the Guidance Node noted as she hovered over the Allagan terminal, sending energy into it and reactivating the teleport pad. As the node did its work, T’lorna and the others spied a large, dark object appearing in the clouds nearby. Rushing down the ramps for the cover of the large outcroppings nearby, they watched in horror as a massive Garlean ship landed.

“So the Garleans managed to land…” Alphinaud sighed. “Repairs on their vessel appear to be well underway.”

“I doubt that they will leave any time soon, however,” Y’shtola added. “Nay, they will remain here long after they have stripped the isle of all its secrets.”

“Whether or not they mean to linger,” Estinien muttered sullenly, “their presence here and now is an unwelcome complication.”

“Warning,” Gilly said. “Intruders detected in force in this quadrant. It is recommended that you avoid confrontation where possible. Be kindly reminded that, in accordance with the terms and conditions of use, you and your party assume all risks of damages or injury, including death, that you may sustain in the course of guidance. Please follow me to the next matter conduit. It leads to the Delta Quadrant, where the facility's greatest achievement is located.” With that, the orb began to float away, coasting over the field where Garlean soldiers and warmechs wandered, patrolling near their ship and on vigil against anything that might disrupt their plans.

T'lorna and the others wove their way carefully through the field, fighting only when they had no choice and to escape further detection. _One day_ , T’lorna thought to herself as they made their way past another massive red column that indicated a sizeable terminal buried in the rubble, _I will come back here and explore and excavate everything on the island. With Cid’s help, we might be able to learn enough about the technology of Allag to risk waking Raha. And… it would be nice for our son to grow up knowing his father and his heritage._

Finally, they reached a clear region. The orb came to a halt, floating without any sign of concern.

“Wait,” Estinien said before T’lorna could go any futher. He looked around the area with heightened senses. “Something is afoot.”

In the distance, they could see a full squadron of Garlean soldiers in ranks. Several crates of Garlean weaponry lay nearby and a few warmechs lay waiting for pilots. Their leader, a man in black steel armor with a helm that bore two horns spiraling up to form a metal halo over his head, began to speak. T’lorna shivered as she recognized his voice.

“Our objective lies at the heart of the isle,” Regula van Hydrus said in a tone intended to be heard by all those gathered near him. “The Third will remain to guard the ship, while the Second patrols the perimeter and eliminates any threats. The First will come with me to secure the research facility. Let no man doubt the import of our mission: the Allagans found a means to capture eikons alive, and their knowledge lies hid upon this isle. If we can but acquire it, we would be able to prevent the beings from returning to plague us, thus ending the cycle of rebirth. I need not remind you that success will raise our legion high in the Emperor's regard. Yet, by the same token, His Radiance does not tolerate failure. That is all. All troops, prepare for deployment!” With that, the forces broke ranks and began to make their way to their appointed positions.

“So,” Y’shtola whispered, “that is their purpose.”

“To think that the knowledge used to bind no less a being than Bahamut sleeps here…” Alphinaud hissed in awe.

“Imprisoning a primal in such a manner would represent an effective means to halt the cycle of summoning – were it not for the grave and obvious risks,” the silver-haired Mi’qote replied pointedly.

“Indeed,” Alphinaud said in agreement. “We need but refer to past experience – that of Bahamut’s calamitous return – to see why this is not the solution we seek.”  
“Held in duress, a primal will continue to nurse its hatred for mankind. And when it inevitably breaks free, its rage will be beyond quelling,” Y’shtola added.

“Whatever folly the Garleans mean to commit, they can wait,” Estinien growled. “We must remain focused on our task.”

“Yes, of course,” Alphinaud nodded. “It would not be polite to keep the archbishop waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me know what you think! Also, I am *loving* my new job. My boss is awesome and I can pretty much do whatever I want at work so long as I take care of "business." That means that I can sometimes get a LOT of writing done at work when things are slow!


	30. The Garleans and Allag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter owed! I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end of Heavensward. Currently, I'm working on one of the "bridge" chapters. Here's chapter two of the six I currently owe.

Once again, the orb took off and the group followed it. It passed very near the Garlean encampment but, moving with care and caution, lest the sounds of a scuffle bring more of the legion down on them, T’lorna and the others snuck across the massive red lattice groundwork, keeping their guidance node in their sights. Finally, the node came to rest near another teleportation terminal. However, when T’lorna moved to touch it, Garlean soldiers appeared and began to attack.

T’lorna wielded her spells, helping to fight off several waves of Garlean soldiers. Finally, when it seemed that the area was clear of Garleans, T’lorna began to channel her energies into the guidance node to reawaken the teleportation device while the others watched her back.

“That would explain my men’s silence,” a Garlean voice came from across the distance. Several more Garlean soldiers took up positions, appearing out of nowhere, to guard their leader. “We meet again,” Regula van Hydrus said as he walked into the midst of his soldiers. “And this time, we will not be interrupted.” He reached back to the gunblade he wore sheathed across his back. “Come! Show me your power, champions of Eorzea!”

Estinien rushed to meet Regula head-on while T’lorna quickly threw up her strongest shields. Alphinaud stood to her right, casting his own spells while Y’shtola flung her own from T’lorna’s left. Regula shrugged off the magical attacks and focused on Estinien, clearly eager to remove the Elezen dragoon from the field first. T’lorna drew upon the power of the ravaged elementals around her and healed the dragoon’s wounds so that the man would not be slowed down. Then, seeing that their leader would not be making short work of the adventurers, Regula’s guards rushed to join the fight.

“Let us aid you, Lord van Hydrus!” one of them shouted.

“Hmph,” Estinien snorted, “naught but toy soldiers to knock down.”

Still, the addition of more forces added a new element to the fight. T’lorna and the others focused on keeping the Garlean soldiers from aiding Regula while Estinien continued to fight him. However, Regula soon tired of trading blows with the dragoon and focused on T’lorna. The Warrior of Light drew upon her shields and her natural reflexes, using them to dodge the attacks and wishing that she had armor and a blade to match against Regula. She moved swiftly, darting and keeping just out of his reach. She would let him grow tantalizingly close, commit to his attack, and then flit out of his way, his blade cutting nothing but the air where she had been.  
“I need air support!” Regula shouted. “ _Now_!”

Large ceruleum tanks fell onto the field from above. T’lorna wove between them, keeping an eye on them and keeping her distance whenever one seemed about to explode. She continued to do her best to dodge Regula’s blade, relying on her shields and her healing spells whenever she could not avoid them. Alphinaud remained with her on the field, his Obsidian Carbuncle doing its best to aid the two spell-casters in the fight. Slowly, they forced Regula back, making him leap away.

“I had heard the tales of your strength, Warrior of Light. And now that I have experienced it firsthand, van Baelsar’s defeat seems less inexplicable. You are a formidable foe, and I have thoroughly enjoyed our time together. Alas, all good things must come to an end. Allagan secrets await, and there is no profit to be had in remaining here.” At that signal, dozens of Garlean soldiers appeared, leaping off the tops of the rocks overlooking the area. An airship landed behind them, lowering its gangway for Regula to escape. “Keep them occupied!” he ordered as he rushed back to the ship. Once he was aboard, the gangway closed and the ship lifted off into the air and flew away.

“Coward,” Estinien spat.

“It would seem we have no choice,” Y’shtola said with a faint hint of excitement in her voice.

“You must continue on. We will hold them here,” Alphinaud promised T’lorna.

“Take the Eye,” Estinien added, handing her the object he carried in his pouch. “It should still hold enough energy to be of use to you. I shall join you as soon as I am able,” he promised.

“Enough talk!” Y’shtola snarled. “Make haste and stop the archbishop!”

With that, T’lorna hurried up the teleportation platform and used it to transport herself deeper into Azys Lla.

~*~*~*~

From her new location, T’lorna could see what looked to be a thin forest on a nearby ridge. She was surprised. It was the first hint of natural life and greenery she had spied since landing in Azys Lla. The guidance node had followed her and hovered nearby. She approached it and heard its strange, tinny voice once more.

“*blip* Welcome to the Delta Quadrant, where methods are developed for mastering dragons,” it announced. “To this day, the sector is home to live specimens brought over from the southern continent of Meracydia. Truly a testament to the greatness of the Allagan Empire.”

“A testament to their great insanity,” T’lorna muttered. The node began to hum and then spoke again.

“*blip* I regret to inform you that the matter conduit leading to the Flagship is no longer functioning. According to my records, it was destroyed by a dragon, which broke free of its restraints when they failed approximately two thousand three hundred and sixty-nine years, one month, twenty-four days, seven hours, and four minutes ago. Please find an alternate route to the Aetherochemical Research Facility. The Allagan Research Council apologizes for any inconvenience caused.”

“Inconvenience? Alternate route?” T’lorna sputtered. “I don’t know anything about this place! How am I supposed to do that? Just pop over to the nearest traveling merchant and ask?”

Then, the presence that had been with her since shortly after she’d set out to find Iceheart, the being that had sealed her powers away, Midgardsomr – the one who had helped her to talk with his kindred even as he tested her to see if she was worthy of his regard – appeared. “So, thy journey hath led thee to this accursed place,” he muttered. “Canst thou hear it, mortal? The ceaseless keening of my kindred, steeped in five thousand years of suffering. Long before the Ishgardians and their base betrayal, there lived still more wicked men whose ambitions knew no bounds. Fearful of our might and covetous of our power, they devised a means to enslave dragonkind... Their vile misdeeds did set in motion a train of events whose repercussions are felt to this day. Beyond, thou wilt find one of my first brood. Hark thou unto her words. Partake thou of her pain. Think thou upon the suffering that the conflict betwixt our kinds hath begot.”

“So, this is about far more than just the injustices visited upon Nidhogg and Hraesvelgr?” T’lorna muttered. “This is about all of the conflict that has ever existed between mortals and dragons. And since dragons are immortal, those wrongs are just as fresh and outrageous to you today as the wounds I suffered in that battle with Regula just a few moments ago. Strange,” she sighed. “Neither I nor any person currently living can do anything to answer for the crimes of our ancestors but we are being held to account for them – even when we denounce those deeds. Even when we try to learn from them and prevent them from happening anew,” she added, thinking of her husband’s desire to keep the world safe from the dangers of Allagan technology. “You cannot seem to understand that not all mortals are the same and that our peoples are divided by nation, by oath, by kindred, and by kind – not to mention by time. Still, I will think on what you have given me to consider. I just hope that we can find a way to make peace between our peoples. I do not want my son growing up in a world where his life is at risk simply because of what his ancestors did ages and ages ago.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna made her way through the green area and was grateful for the somewhat normal feeling in the air there. Aside from all of the various sized dragonkind wandering through the lightly covered forest, she could have found herself back in some of the thin forests of La Nocsea. Small streams, clearer air… it was almost comforting to her to be some place that was not so obviously the ruins of a mighty and technologically-advanced empire. However, as she rounded a path that wound its way up a small hillock and saw a massive Allagan prison containing a huge dragon. Off to her side, T’lorna sensed and saw Midgardsormr manifesting himself.

“Who cometh to this forsaken place and disturbeth my solitude?” the imprisoned dragon asked wearily.

“Tiamat, my child,” Midgardsormr said softly.

“…Father?” she asked in confusion as she studied the tiny dragon floating near the ground. “Can it truly be you?”

“None other,” he replied. “My form is such that I may journey with Hydaelyn's chosen — A mortal who desireth to end the war between man and dragon.”

“Millennia have passed since I was brought low by the men of Allag. To think that war rageth still between our kinds... Hearken to my tale, child of man. I am Tiamat, of Midgardsormr's first brood. In a time before time, my father did come to this star, bearing seven eggs.”

“From these eggs did my children hatch. And once they were full-grown, they took wing and spread across all the lands of Hydaelyn,” he explained.

“Together with my brood-brother Bahamut, I journeyed south to Meracydia. And together, we brought forth innumerable children into the world. We abided in peace, and all was well...until the men of Allag came, some five thousand years since. They slaughtered my children in droves, and took from me my beloved Bahamut. 'Twas then, when I had fallen into the depths of despair, that black-robed men came unto me. The Ascians. They offered to resurrect Bahamut through their dark arts, and I, in my grief, accepted ─ a decision which I shall regret unto my dying breath. For what they brought back was a mockery of my beloved. Worse, the Ascians gifted his murderers the means to entrap him. Know this, child of man: the beings thy kind call gods are but specters of thy mind's creation, given form at great cost to Hydaelyn. Many such beings yet slumber across the land, brought to heel by the selfsame empire that bound me. They must not be released into the world. If thou wouldst end the conflict, vanquish thee the Ascians, and deliver the weak of will from the bonds of their dark influence.”

“It hath been five thousand years, my child. Wilt thou not forgive thyself?” Midgardsormr asked softly.

“The release of death is denied me here, yet I desire not freedom. Nay, Father. I shall live with my regret until the world itself hath ceased to be. Such is my just punishment for consorting with Darkness ─ for calling forth a loathsome and lamentable creature which blackeneth my beloved's memory.”

Just then, T’lorna felt a pressure in her soul and mind and found herself back on the platform floating in the void. Her Crystals of Light, five of them glowing and re-awoken, shone brightly and the final one joined them as the last of Midgardsormr’s binding fell away. With that, T’lorna heard the voice of Hydaelyn clear once more.

“Warrior of Light. Beloved daughter. The Light abideth within thy heart again. Full valiantly didst thou overcome thy many trials. But glory not in thy success. For the servants of Darkness are ever close at hand. Receive of me my blessing once more, And go forth, to shine thy Light on all creation.”

As the vision faded and T’lorna found herself once again surrounded by the trees of Azys Lla, she sighed in relief.

“Thou hast broken down the wall I built around thee, and partaken of thy mistress's blessing once more,” Midgardsormr said blandly. “Strong art thou, mortal ─ stronger than any other of thy kind. Having looked upon thy deeds, I am convinced. Thou art worthy to bear Her Light. The covenant bound me to thee, but 'twould seem our fates were mingled from the first. Though I will not fight thy battles, I will yet lend thee my wings.” With that, Midgardsormr transformed, taking on his true form instead of the smaller, less threatening form he used to travel with T’lorna. Drifting down to land in front of her, he bowed his head in respect as he said, “Come, mortal ─ we go to cast out the Darkness!”

T’lorna climbed aboard the dragon’s back and signaled. He rose up from the ground and began flying towards their destination.

~*~*~*~

Through the green-brown skies of Azys Lla they flew, the Warrior of Light and the progenitor of the dragons. Up and up, banking, weaving, and ducking around obstacles until, at last, they reached the largest area looming in the clouds.

The Flagship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, let me know what you think!


	31. Heavensward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we reach the "end" of Heavensward proper. The next few chapters will be wrap-ups and bridge chapters. Again, I'm still currently working my way through them and hope to get caught up in the next week or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're leading up to the final battles of Heavensward...

The Flagship was immense. It easily dwarfed every other floating structure in Azys Lla. Built on a scale that made the Garlean great warships look like fishing boats, the Flagship’s air tingled with energy and aether. T’lorna wondered how her hair did not rise on end from the electric zing that tainted the air.

When Midgardsormr finally landed near where the Guidance Node had stopped, T’lorna dismounted and shook her head in wonder at the sheer scale of the vessel upon which she stood. Moving over to the node, she reached out to touch it with her hand and her aether to see what information it had for her now.

“*blip* Welcome to the Flagship, Mistress T’lorna. You are almost at your destination. *blip* *bloop* WARNING!” it shouted. “Intruders detected in the vicinity. Please eliminate them if you wish to proceed.” With that, the node floated away and T’lorna followed it, going through a tunnel and up a spiraling ramp until she saw the node come to a stop at an overhang. A deactivated terminal hung in the air nearby. As T’lorna approached the node, it sent out another warning.

“*blip* *bloop* WARNING! Intruders approaching.”

Garlean soldiers appeared in the distance, racing to attack. T’lorna readied her spells and fought them off, sending them reeling in retreat for the moment. When they retreated, leaving her in peace, she reached out to the Guidance Node once more.

“*blip* Area secured,” it said calmly. “Lifting access restriction to the Aetherochemical Research Facility… Restriction lifted. You may enter the facility at your leisure. Ending guidance. *blip* Unknown energy source detected within the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Please exercise caution,” it warned. “I am pleased to have been of service to you, Mistress T’lorna. Please send my regards to Master Wedge. Deactivating… *bloop*” it said as it powered down and returned to a state of dormancy.

Sighing, T’lorna pulled out parchment and pencils to draw a map. She had a feeling that she was going to need backup to explore this Aetherochemical Research Facility. Now that she had found it, she would return to Cid and the others, call up her friends in Valhalla, and then, with them, explore the dangers that lurked ahead.

~*~*~*~

“There she is,” T’lorna heard Biggs saying in a strangely high-pitched tone as she materialized at the aetheryte. “She’s back, just like I told you she would be, little master.”

She turned to see the Roegadyn holding her son. Noah looked so tiny in Biggs’s massive arms but he wriggled and waved his hands towards her, cooing and gurgling with delight when he saw his mother. T’lorna grinned and rushed over to him, taking him from Biggs and cradling him to her chest. Noah began burrowing against her breasts, obviously eager for dinner. Chuckling softly to herself, T’lorna moved off to the side, unbuttoned her blouse, and pulled out one of her breasts so that her son might nurse in comfort. She sighed in relief – the pressure of a full breast relieved as her son drank deeply. When he had drained one breast, she reached over and pulled the other free, re-positioning him so he could suckle from it. Before it was completely drained, Noah gave over feeding and simply held on, clinging to his mother for safety and comfort. Gently, T’lorna unlatched him and draped him over her shoulder, patting his back until she felt him burp.

“My son,” she whispered as she carefully re-clothed herself and then cradled him in her arms, “you have the blood of your father coursing through your veins. This land of Azys Lla will be yours to command, one day. But for now, I am glad to have you here with me, dependent upon me. When you are older, I will share with you everything I have learned and look to you for deeper understanding. Oh, my son,” she sighed as she shifted him from her shoulder to cradle him in her arms. “I am glad you could be here with me before I go to face down the archbishop. May Hydaelyn keep you safe and whole as I battle through the trials to come.”

~*~*~*~

Cid watched as T’lorna tended her son and then climbed into the tent they had set up for her. He had noticed how some of the Allagan devices seemed more… responsive… in Noah’s presence. Already his own notes were full of details about how Noah could possibly be of use to the Ironworks in the future when it came to gaining control of Allagan technology.

“Still,” he muttered to himself, “your father locked himself away instead of risking a disaster where technology that the world did not understand was made readily available to any who could wrest control of it. We should probably be careful and make notes about what you can set off, Noah.”

“I see that T’lorna has returned safe and sound,” Wedge said as he walked up to Cid. “And Noah’s screams no longer deafen all of us in the region.”

“The poor little mite was hungry and missed his mother,” Cid laughed. “None of us had what it took to satisfy him and he’s not yet old enough to articulate his displeasure at a reasonable volume.”

“Still, it’s good that she returned. I just wish she had brought Gilly back with her instead of leaving the poor girl at the Flagship.”

“It gives you and Biggs an excuse to make the trek up there to see things for yourselves,” Cid replied. “Do you know what brought her back here? I was half-expecting her to keep going until she found the archbishop.”

“Apparently, the dangers of the Aetherochemical Research Facility are not those she feels she can tackle without assistance. She’s going to call Thancred and Y’shtola in to help her but still needs assistance from some of her friends in Valhalla. She also suspects that she’s quite close to finding the archbishop and wants to ensure that she has adequate back-up to help her with that particular fight.”

“I see. No wonder her linkpearl has been busy for the past few hours,” Cid sighed. “Still, better to go in overprepared instead of underprepared, I suppose.”

~*~*~*~

Inside her tent, T’lorna sat down in the blankets that the Ironworks had piled for her bedding and then finished feeding her son while she called Syris on her linkpearl.

“Hey Sy,” she said when she heard the Elezen click on his headset. “How are things?”

“Things have been slow ever since you took your maternity leave,” Syris quipped. “Just yesterday, Geralin said that if he went much longer without a good fight, he was going to start hiring himself out as a gladiator and challenge General Raubhan to a bout in the arena at Ul’dah.”

“Raubhan has only one arm and is still probably recovering from his imprisonment,” T’lorna sighed. “So, tell Geralin that I’ve got a job for anyone who is interested. Get to Ishgard and take the airship from the Ironworks to Azys Lla…”

“Azys Lla?!” Syris yelped in surprise. “You mean that place isn’t a myth?”

“No, it’s real. Ugly as the seven hells itself, but real.”

“Dammit,” Syris groaned. “That’s a hundred gil I owe Geralin for being wrong. I could have sworn the place was just one of those legends.”

“So, do you think that there will be any takers to coming here? We have a very dangerous Allagan research facility filled with gods know what contraptions and monsters to explore and the archbishop is around here somewhere as well. Probably some nice treasure left lying carelessly about as well.”

“Oh, please,” Syris snorted. “You’ll have plenty of takers. You always do. Geralin and I will be there for certain. I doubt that Jinpu, Lokira, and Marcus will pass up the chance either. Should we plan on a long campaign?”

“Well, there are plenty of nooks and crannies to explore. I’d say no more than a month, though. So, about the same amount of time we spent in Mor Dhona with the Crystal Tower.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to spend some time with my nephew. He’s probably getting old enough to be interesting.”

“Oh, he’s plenty interesting,” T’lorna laughed as she watched Noah try to grab for the linkpearl to see what it was that his mother was playing with. He began to squawk in anger when she didn’t relinquish it to him.

“He sounds interesting,” Syris laughed. “I’ll let you go while I round up the others. We should be out there tomorrow morning. Be ready for us.”

“We will be,” T’lorna said as she switched the linkpearl off and then hurried to find something less valuable and less breakable to distract her son.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna woke when her son announced, in tones that could pierce even the deepest sleep, that he was hungry again. Hurriedly, she dragged herself out of her blankets, somewhat reluctant to wake all the way up. She’d been dreaming of Raha, dreaming that he was with her here in Azys Lla explaining the functions and purpose of each strange device they came across. Noah had been with them, carried comfortably in the sling she wore that allowed him to peer over her shoulders.

“All right, all right,” she whispered to her son as she unlaced the front of the tunic she wore to sleep in. “Calm down.”

“That is one loud little baby,” she heard Syris say from the tent flap. “Are you decent yet?” he added when he heard Noah’s cries stop.

“Decent enough for you and Geralin,” T’lorna muttered. “Come on in.”

Syris ducked into the tent with Geralin following closely after him. “Handsome lad,” Geralin said with a nod to the back of Noah’s head. “He has his father’s hair.”

“And his father’s eyes,” T’lorna replied. “What brings you two here at the crack of dawn?”

“Oh, we got here late last night but you were already sound asleep,” Syris said. “We just wondered if you had had a chance to scout out this research facility or if we will be going in blind.”

“Blind,” T’lorna admitted. “Unless we get lucky and can figure out how to get one of the terminals to tell us more than the basics.”

“Maybe he could help?” Geralin asked, gesturing towards Noah. T’lorna’s eyes widened in shock and she felt her ears go flat against her head in mild anger. “I’m not suggesting that we use him to gain control of anything,” Geralin added quickly. “I’m just suggesting that we see if he can get us greater access through the terminals. Enough, at least, to get a map of this facility and learn what is inside it.”

“I… I suppose we could _try_ that,” T’lorna said with discomfort as she shifted her son to her shoulder and reclothed herself with one hand. “But only for information. Not for control.”

“Information only,” Geralin agreed. “We’ll go scrounge up some breakfast for you while you get dressed then.”

With that, the two Elezen ducked out of the tent while the young mother was left to ponder if she were starting down a path that would lead them all into more trouble.

~*~*~*~

Several hours later, as Geralin, Syris, T’lorna, Alphinaud, and Y’shtola made their way to the Flagship, T’lorna found herself oddly relieved. Following Geralin’s suggestion, they had taken Noah to one of the terminals. The terminal had been more… responsive… in his presence but it would not take orders from anyone speaking on his behalf. It seemed that the only way to gain access to or control over some of the Allagan technology available to the Royal Line was to be old enough to know what you were asking for and to actually be of the Royal Line.

That, in and of itself, should keep Noah safe from those who would try to use him. At least, until he was older. Eventually, like his father, he would learn of his heritage and, given that both of his parents were scholars, he would probably want to explore that heritage in depth.

“Hopefully, by then, the schools of Sharlayan will be open once more and you can go there to learn all you wish,” she whispered to her son though he had remained at the camp far behind them. “That should keep you occupied for a few years at least and give the rest of us enough time to figure out how to convince you to go slowly and carefully.”

“What are you saying?” Syris asked, his voice pitched high to be heard over the rush of the wind and the loud, beating sound of Midgardsormr’s wings flapping to keep them aloft.

“Nothing of any concern to you,” T’lorna said, pitching her voice the same way.

“I think we’re there,” Geralin shouted from further up the dragon’s neck. The clouds were thinning and they could see the landing spot on the Flagship just a few minutes away. Each of the fighters began to mentally prepare themselves for a venture into the unknown as the great wrym floated up and over the clear spot, landing gently and holding himself still while his mortal passengers climbed down.

“Hunt well, young mortals,” Midgardsormr said as he shifted his shape back to the smaller form he had taken while T’lorna worked to prove herself worthy of her power to him. “I will wait here for your return.”

The five then made their way into the Aetherochemical Research Facility. It, unlike the rest of the Flagship, was wrought in blues and golds – much like the Crystal Tower had been. Red warning lights and beacons dotted the walls and doors, pulsing in regular patterns. As they made their way through the passages, T’lorna noted that most of the creatures that challenged them were mechanical in nature. They fought using pre-determined attack patterns and did not seem to respond to what was actually going on around them for the first several battles. Then, somehow, the technology that powered them must have communicated their preferred methods to the devices ahead for they found themselves having to switch tactics every few battles as the creatures adapted to their favored fighting styles.

“Smart buggers,” Syris muttered after a particularly grueling skirmish against several waves of creatures that had come from vaults housed beneath the floor. “Too bad we don’t have someone like your husband around to tell them to deactivate.”

“We got through them just fine,” Geralin groused as he set his sword and shield aside to shake out his arms. Hitting metallic creatures with a metal sword was obviously not the best way to deal with them but still, the Elezen had a point – they had been effective.

“We’ll have to let Cid and the rest of the Ironworks in here to examine the wreckage. Perhaps Biggs and Wedge will figure out a way to repair those devices and get them to work under our control,” T’lorna sighed. “For now, let’s just keep moving. We need to get to the archbishop before he has time to do anything irreparably foolish with this technology.”

“Yeah, I think that might be a problem,” Geralin said slowly as he spied their next encounter. T’lorna groaned when she saw Regula van Hydrus standing in the center of the next chamber waiting for them. He had already destroyed the guardian devices around him and stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting with a clear air of impatience.

“No sooner do I clear away the rabble…” he growled. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

There was nothing left to do but engage.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna groaned as Regula made his escape. They had had him clearly defeated but the crafty Garlean had still been able to quit the field with a final parting taught of “They day is yours… but we will meet again.”

“Probably when we least want to,” she huffed at his retreating form.

“Regardless, let’s press on,” Geralin sighed. “And keep a watch on our backsides – no need to let him come sneaking up on us and catch us between him and another challenger.”

~*~*~*~

The second region of the facility was devoted to lifeforms that had been altered in various ways. They fought their way through sludges, oozes, chimeras, and other creatures that defied description. The final creature of the area was a shapeshifting nightmare who forced them all to dance nimbly away from its many different kinds of attacks.

But still, it fell before them.

The next region reminded T’lorna very strongly of her fights against the Garlean warmechs in the various Castrums she had visited. It consisted only of an elevator platform but several mechanical devices attacked in waves until, at last, they reached the bottom.

This place was different. Wrought in whites and golds with blue lights shining up from the hexagonal floor tiles, the floor changed, shifting, creating paths through it where once there had been nothing but wide-open gaps and spaces. The creatures in this region were all humanoid. Clones, they might have been, since they were virtually identical. They wielded magic to great effect but still were no more challenging than the average non-Garlean soldier. The few strange, giant monsters that they encountered were likewise no more difficult to overcome than other foes had been.

Moving through this strange chamber of floating, shifting platforms and elevators, the five finally made their way to the end of the research facility and stood face to face with the final encounter therein.

“Oh great,” T’lorna sighed as she recognized the robed and masked figures. “We should have known that the Ascians would be involved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	32. The Fight for Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we reach the final battles in Heavensward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Heavensward proper is wrapped up. I'm currently writing chapter 33 and should finish it tonight before I crash out.

T’lorna and the others stepped slowly out onto the circular platform, their gazes fixed on the pair of Ascians waiting there for them. One was male and the other female. A mated pair, then? T’lorna stood quietly as they appeared out of their shadowy clouds and spoke.

“The champion of Hydaleyn,” one said calmly. T’lorna thought it was the male Ascian. He wore a mask that called to mind Lahabrea, the Ascian who had taken control of Thancred.

“Tell me, why do you despise the primals so? They are the embodiment of mortal will – of mortal desire. Plainly, you _desire_ a foe to despise. And ‘tis well that you do, for it is from the vortex of ceaseless conflict that Lord Zodiark shall be reborn,” the female Ascian said.

“Through the Joining, the world shall become whole again,” Lahabrea said softly. “Then all shall be as once it was – as it should ever have remained.”

“For the glory of Lord Zodiark!” the female Ascian shouted.

“Your meddling ends here and now, Warrior of Light,” Lahabrea promised.

Geralin rushed to the attack, focusing on the female Ascian. _Igeyorhm_ , T’lorna thought she heard Lahabrea call her. Clearly, this Ascian was something special to him. A mate, perhaps? A close friend? Or a sister? T’lorna could not decide. Lahabrea himself vanished, disappearing into the aether as the other – Igeyorhm, cast spells of ice against her attackers. Every so often, Lahabrea would appear, weaving spells of shadow against them. Dodging and weaving carefully, her spells of protection and healing ever at the ready, the group continued to fight, slamming spells and blades into Igeyorhm until, at last, she was forced to trade places with her partner.

Lahabrea joined the fight but T’lorna and the others had the rhythm of it now. The Ascian hit them with shadow spells that they avoided while his partner, Igeyorhm, cast spells of ice. Slowly, they whittled down Lahabrea’s energy until, at last, he was forced to admit defeat.

Not that he would go quietly. Though he and his partner might have been bested individually, they would not surrender. Instead, they joined their strengths together.

“No, I will not be bested by the likes of them!” Igeyorhm shouted. “Lahabrea, it is time!”

“Very well. Let us show these mortals the true power of the Echo... The power to break down the barriers of existence!” Lahabrea cried out in ecstasy and pain.

“I am become you...” Igeyorhm said, her voice a strange double reverberation.

“...And we are become one,” Lahabrea said, his voice merging with hers.

The two Ascians merged together, body and soul. T’lorna could feel the wash of power flowing over her. Apart, they had been formidable foes. But joined together, two souls with one will… the new creation would be one to shake the very walls of heaven itself.

“Come, mortals!” it shouted triumphantly. “Render up your souls, that Lord Zodiark might be reborn!”

Again, they fought, dodging spells of shadow and ice and of the two combined. Weaving carefully, watching as this new Ascian being uncovered powers that were more than a mere union of its parent entities, they fought. Shadow and ice. Ice and shadow. The very hints of unmaking, of freezing, of death, and of worse than death… The five struggled, dodging, weaving, flinging their spells of life and light, of fire and hope, against the thing that was more than a mere merging of the two Ascians.

“Aaargh!!! What walls are these? Arrrgh! Damn you, Hydaelyn!” the joined creature said before it began to split into two.

“That she might regain the blessing of Light I had foreseen... But she is grown so strong in it as to deny us our power,” Lahabrea gasped as T’lorna reached into her satchel and drew forth the white auracite crystal she had carried with her. She also called forth the Eye, using its power to entrap and draw the two Ascians into the auracite where they would no longer be a threat to her or to any others in Eorzea.

“Let us withdraw, Lahabrea. That power remains to us, at least. Impossible!” she screamed as T’lorna began to channel through the Eye. “Aaaaaahhh!”

A wave of light filled the arena as Igeyorhm was drawn into the auracite.

“So you harnessed the Eye's power... A pity you spent it all. What will you do now, hero?” Lahabrea sneered as T’lorna’s hold on the Eye began to waver. T’lorna drew upon the power of the Eye once more, knowing that it might very well kill her.

“So, not even the vaunted Warrior of Light can unmake an Ascian without relying upon mortal contrivances,” a deep, resonant, royal voice said. T’lorna thought it sounded like the archbishop might have spoken during his youth.

“You!” Lahabrea hissed in anger. She glanced over to her side, not surprised to see Thordan and several of his knight-slaves carrying a sarcophagus into the arena where Lahabrea knelt. “In the distant past,” the archbishop said, “King Thordan and his knights twelve fought and defeated Nidhogg.” With that, the knights set the sarcophagus down. “Though the victory cost them dear,” the archbishop continued,” they were rewarded with a great prize: the dread wyrm’s eyes, both of which have since been held in the Holy See’s safekeeping.” He glanced over at T’lorna and the Eye she held. “They Eye you possess was Nidhogg’s left, and long has it served as the source of the Azure Dragoon’s might. As for its twin…” he gestured and his knights lifted the lid of the sarcophagus, revealing the silver-clad knight held within. The other eye was embedded in the chest of the knight’s armor. “It has lain here,” the archbishop continued, “joined to the person of Haldrath, the first Azure Dragoon. For though he learned to harness its power, he was ultimately consumed by it. Even in death, his body decays not – a pitiful end for a fabled hero. My Ascian friend,” the archbishop sighed as he turned to regard the kneeling Lahabrea, “Long have you and your kind sown the seeds of chaos by teaching mortals the secrets of summoning. But if you assumed that we would meekly serve as your pawns, then you are gravely mistaken.”

“You would raise a hand against us!?” Lahabrea snarled in disbelief.

“By taking unto my flesh the soul of the legendary King Thordan, I am become a god,” Thordan roared as he drew upon the power of the eye in Haldrath’s armor. The old Elezen was transformed into a mighty knight of eld, five times T’lorna’s height, with a blazing white blade in his hand. “A god who knows not cessation, whose being is sustained by a millennium of fervent prayer and the Eye's nigh-bottomless reservoir of aether.”

“What!?”

“Your contempt for man has proven your undoing, Ascian. For my first act as god-king, I do hereby sentence you to die.”

“Aaaaaargggh!” Lahabrea roared as his very essence was consumed by Thordan.

T’lorna watched in shock as the Ascian’s very soul was consumed by Thordan’s blade. “Gods feed upon aether. It matters not what form that aether takes. Ascian souls are no exception. With this power, I shall put an end to a thousand years of conflict. Be they sown by Ascian, dragon, or primal, wheresoever the seeds of chaos threaten to quicken, I shall excise them with my divine blade and bring order to the world. I am become that which you abhor, Warrior of Light. If you would take issue with my godhood, I shall answer you with my blade,” he sighed as he turned upon T’lorna.

T’lorna stared at him. In this form – a primal taking the shape of the man of legend – Thordan stood several times as tall as she or any other mortal. His loyal knights twelve formed ranks behind him, moving out to flank him, their weapons at the ready. T’lorna nodded to her companions who quickly summoned others – this was not a fight that could be won with only a handful. Within moments, other members of Valhalla ran into the room, taking up position as Thordan worked his powers to transform his own followers into soldiers suitable for a primal.

“Brothers!” he shouted. “The time is come to call upon the true power of the Heavens’ Ward!” The knights twelve then floated above the ground, dark light surrounding them as they transformed. “Fight me if you will, Warrior of Light,” Thordan said calmly. “I care not. All who stand against me will be destroyed be they servants of the Darkness or the Light. By my blessing shall all men be sanctified,” he roared, “and an endless era of peace begin. Vice and conflict shall cease to be. You reject my divinity, yet what have you to offer my people in its stead?” he demanded. “Bitter truth? Virtuous suffering?” Thordan lifted his mighty blade, holding it aloft and letting the power of his magic flow through it until it shone like a beacon. The knights twelve shone in resonance to it and then flew off, disappearing in the distance above. “No matter,” Thordan sighed. “If you believe your cause just, I call upon you to defend it with your life!”

With that final challenge, Thordan attacked. Geralin and Syris rushed him, holding his blade at bay as the others took up position, hurling spells and bolts at the primal. One by one, his knights twelve appeared on the field, hitting the Valhalla fighters with attack of opportunity while their leader did his best to overcome them with his power. T’lorna prayed that her power would be enough as she cast shields and spells of healing all around her, careful to stay out of the way of Thordan and his knights’ many attacks.

Slowly, with a price paid in blood and sweat, they brought down each of the knights twelve who took the field. First Ser Charibert when Thordan, mortally wounded, quit the field and called upon Ascalon to aid him. Ser Hermenost fell next followed quickly by Ser Zephirin. Ser Veliguine was next. After him came Ser Janlenoux and Adelphel who had attacked with lightning swiftness earlier, escaping before they could be overcome. This time, the pair fell with Ser Ignasse giving aid, disappearing before Valhalla could wound him. Sers Haumeric and Paulecrain joined the battle next, quitting the field quickly to be replaced by Sers Grinnaux and Noudenet. Ser Gerruique appeared, alongside several comets, and vanished. Thordan, his strength somewhat restored, reappeared and attacked with alacrity. The primal was clearly eager to rid the field of the upstart mortals but lacked the strength to simply will them out of existence or to enslave them. Realizing this, he called upon all of the knights twelve, summoning them and then drawing upon their power and their souls for a final attack.  
Valhalla stood strong. Shields and spells of healing helped them to ride it out as they dodged nimbly until, at last, Thordan was left alone on the field. They redoubled their attacks against him, hitting him with every bit of energy they had left.

“Y-you survived my divine reckoning?” he stammered in shock. “Impossible!” As the attacks continued and, at last, his power was broken, Thordan slumped to his knees. “This is the power of Light?” he asked. His primal form and that of his knights twelve exploded in a shower of sparks, leaving only the mortal form of the elderly archbishop on the field. “How… how can this be?” he gasped. “A millennium of prayer and the Eye’s power combined – and you still stand? Who – _what_ are you?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on T’lorna. His gaze widened as he gasped, his breath rattling in his throat, and then his body exploded in sparks, floating away on the aether to join the Lifestream.

T’lorna’s eyes narrowed in anger even as she bowed her head in respect. The archbishop was gone. The Ascians were defeated. The Dragonsong War, for better or for worse, was at an end. As she turned the leave the chamber, Estinien approached her.

“It is over, then?” he asked. “I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it… but knowing you, there was little chance of that.” T’lorna nodded in acknowledgement and then reached into her satchel and pulled forth the Eye. She returned it to the Azure Dragoon. “‘Twould seem the Eye has served you well,” he said. Then, calmly, he walked over to where Thordan’s blade lay on the ground, the other Eye still blazing within its crossguard. Bending down, Estinien wrested it from the sword. “Its twin… At long last…” he sighed in awe. “All that remains it to take the beyond the reach of man and dragon both. With this task accomplished, my toils shall finally be at an end.” T’lorna nodded – it would be a fitting end to the war.

However, before either she or Estinien could act, the spirit of Nidhogg appeared. With both his eyes united once more, the dragon’s soul gained in power.

“Thou hadst done well to resist mine influence, bathed in my power and blood as thou wert,” Nidhogg taunted. Estinien struggled against the dragon’s influence. However, though he could resist the power of one eye, he could not hope to hold out against the power of two. “Alas, in thine anticipation of comfort, thou hast lowered they guard!” Nidhogg taunted as Estinien writhed and screamed in pain. “The keening of my fallen kindred… Their smoldering desire for vengeance… Mine eyes have partaken of a thousand years of pain – a pain which I shall bestow upon thee. Drink deep of my rage, mortal… AND BECOME ME!”

T’lorna flung out a hand towards the Elezen but he was quickly overcome by the power of both Eyes. Estinien transformed into Nidhogg and, with a roar, flew off.

“Nidhogg, my child…” T’lorna heard Midgardsormr say sorrowfully as he took form next to her, “What hath thy fury made of thee? Let us away, servant of Hydaelyn,” he said, turning to T’lorna. She nodded and climbed aboard his back, letting the great father of dragons carry her off. He flew out of the Flagship, through the skies of Azys Lla, until he drew near Cid’s airship.

“Haha!” Cid laughed. “Godsdammit, do you always have to cut it so bloody close?” the Garlean demanded. With a wave to him, T’lorna gestured for Cid to lead the way out. She could see Y’shtola, Alphinaud, and the rest of her friends from Valhalla gathered on the decks.

“It would seem she had does it again,” Y’shtola said.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Alphinaud asked. “Let us return to Ishgard,” he suggested as he looked over to check on Noah who was cooing happily in his makeshift cradle. “Our friends will be eager to learn the battle’s outcome… and welcome back their champion.”

“Where is Estinien?” Y’shtola asked, her silver eyes sorrowful, as if she knew the answer already. T’lorna nodded in shared sorrow and then signaled to Midgardsormr to fall in behind the airship. There would be time enough for questions and answers later. For now, she needed to report to Aymeric and the others in Ishgard.

Flying together, they set their sights on Ishgard and soon left the noxious clouds of Azys Lla behind them.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna signaled for Midgardsormr to land near the courtyard just beyond the airship docks as Cid steered his ship into its hold. She could see Aymeric, Artoirel, and many others waiting to greet her.

“I daresay you are the first soul in Ishgardian history to arrive in our city upon dragonback,” the Lord Commander said brightly. “This scene shall be remembered for a thousand years to come.”

T’lorna climbed off Midgardsormr’s back as Alphinaud and the others disembarked from the ship. Y’shtola carried Noah and passed him over to his mother as Alphinaud began his explanations.

“As we had feared,” the younger Elezen said, “the archbishop summoned the soul of King Thordan unto himself and thence became a primal.”

“But he and his knights are no more, thanks to the Warrior of Light,” Y’shtola added quickly.

“Your struggles are not over yet, mortals,” Midgardsormr warned.

“Whom do I have the pleasure…?” Aymeric asked as he faced the great dragon.

“I am Midgardsormr. I have journeyed with Hydaelyn’s champion and observed her deeds in the conflict between man and dragon,” the great wyrm replied just as politely. “Tell me, children of Thordan,” he asked. “Do you desire peace?”

Aymeric knelt, quickly followed by Count Edmont and his sons. His knights followed suit as their Lord Commander responded. “My people have committed unspeakable atrocities against dragonkind – even against our own,” he said. “Would that we could undo these wrongs… but we cannot. Be that as may, the future yet presents a chance to begin anew. Our nation has broken free of the shackles of a false faith, and Nidhogg shall lead his kindred against us no more. I doubt not that it will require much effort and perseverance, but ‘tis my belief that, in time, Ishgard will again become a place where man and dragon may abide together in harmony,” Aymeric said with conviction.

“I shall remember thy words,” Midgardsormr said. Aymeric bowed his head in response and gratitude. “Yet be warned,” the great wyrm added. “Nidhogg’s soul liveth on. His unbridled rage hath claimed for its vessel the one thou callest the Azure Dragoon.”

“Estinien!” Aymeric exclaimed as he rose to his feet.

“Doubt not but that Nidhogg will call out to his brood ere long, nor that they shall answer him,” Midgardsormr warned. “Steel yourselves, for the true test is yet to come.”

“Come what may, we will never cease to believe,” Aymeric swore. “Upon the souls of they who have sacrificed themselves to pave the way for peace, we will never abandon our cause.”

“A thousand-year war cannot be ended in a day,” Midgardsormr cautioned. “It may take generations. What thou dost begin, thy children must continue. Entrust unto them thy hopes and dreams, that peace may reign again...and forevermore.” With that, the great wyrm rose into the sky and flew off, leaving the mortals to ponder much in his wake.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed in relaxation as she settled back onto her bed at the Fortemps manor. Her son was just mastering the art of rolling over and she watched him roll across the thick rug on the floor with amusement. It had been several weeks since she had faced down the archbishop and the Asicans in Azys Lla. A few times, she had ventured back to the floating isle to study the Allagan ruins and technology and update her notes. However, in a few moons, it would be two years since Raha locked himself away in the Crystal Tower and she had plans for that day.

But, for now, she enjoyed watching their son explore his ever-expanding world. One day, in the next few months, he would take his first independent steps. Soon, he would begin to speak. Before long, he would have his own opinions to express. Sighing, T’lorna wondered just how hard he would fight her guidance. Would he be like her? So different from those around him that he never felt as if he fit in? Or would he be more akin to her and his father, ever seeking to fit himself in to a role that might not perfectly suit him?

“Whatever happens, T’Noah,” she promised him, “I will let you decide. I will not have your fate forced simply because you bear the eyes of the Allagan Royal family. If you are interested in learning about that part of your heritage, I will do my best to aid you. If you are more interested in making your own way in the world, then I will help you to do that. But, for now, I will try to figure out just what it is about that particular corner of the rug that you find so fascinating,” she laughed as she watched him drag himself over to the edge of the rug and begin tugging at it. He cooed and grunted at it, squawking in an imitation of speech as he watched it fall out of his grasp. He pounded at it with the flat of his hand, making pronunciations that made no sense before rolling over on his back and kicking his legs in the air in triumph. “Whatever you will be, my son, I will be proud of you,” T’lorna promised as she climbed down from the bed and laid down on her belly next to him, trying to understand the world from his unique point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I am going to condense some of the action between the end of Heavensward and the beginning of Stormblood. I'm hoping to finish the next chapter tonight and chapter 34 by Sunday. If I get those done, I'll post both ASAP. That should let me get completely caught up so that I only have to get 35 written and posted by next Friday to get back on schedule.
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me!


	33. A New Era Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we finally get to meet Krile! I love the way she makes Alphinaud uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

A few weeks after the battle with Thordan, T’lorna visited Haurchefant’s grave. She took Noah with her, bundling him up against the chill in the air. Standing there, holding her young son, she told him of Haruchefant’s nobility, his grace, his charm, and his loyalty.

“He was a good man,” she said. “He sacrificed himself to save me. He would have made you a good uncle – though his elder brother Artoirel tries to fill that void. I hope that, when you are older, you will learn to appreciate Haurchefant. I will do my best to keep him in your memory. He was so looking forward to meeting you and being a part of your life.”

Noah cooed, gurgled, and then grasped at the snowflakes that were falling near him. He grinned up at his mother and held out his hand as if to offer her one he had captured. When he noticed that it had melted into water, he stared at his hand in fascinated irritation. He began to kick his legs, clearly wanting to be set down so he could explore the world. 

“You didn’t expect it to melt,” she grinned as she kissed her son on his forehead. “You thought that it would stay the same. In time, you will learn, my son, that merely touching anything can cause it to change. But, for now, I accept your gift – even if it is not the one you hoped to offer to me,” she laughed as she reached down and touched the water droplet with her own finger. He grinned at her and T’lorna smiled as she lifted the droplet and then flicked it into the distance. She began to unstrap the thick packet she’d tied to her back – a packet of blankets – and set them on the snowy ground of Haurchefant’s grave. Then, she lifted her son and set him upon them on his belly. The infant half-dragged, half-crawled to the edge where he could slam his hand into the snow.

He seemed surprised at the cold and at the way that the snow gave underneath his palm. It didn’t splash the way his bathwater did and it wasn’t firm the way that the floor of the mansion was. He continued to slap at it until, at last, he grew bored with the way it gave and the cold and then turned over onto his back, kicking his legs up into the air and gurgling. However, his head was half-on, half-off the blanket and, soon, the cold began to irritate him. He scrunched up his face and began to wail, knowing that somehow his mother would make it all right.

“There there,” T’lorna sighed as she pulled him back into the center of the blankets and used her shawl to dry his wet hair. “It’s not the end of the world. But, perhaps now you will know that the fluffy white stuff is _cold_. Gods be good,” she grinned, “I wonder what you will do when I take you to visit your grandfather. How will you handle the waves that slam against the beach?”

Noah stared at her and then began to drool and gurgle more. She wiped his chin and wrapped him back up before rolling the blankets into a wet and sodden pack she could sling onto her back. Then, she whistled for her chocobo and rode back to Ishgard.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna was not surprised to find Alphinaud and Tataru standing in the main room of the Fortemps manor. She unslung Noah from his carrier and set him on the thickly carpeted floor before handing her sodden backpack to a servant to be washed and dried.

“After long years of estrangement, Ishgard rejoins her sister nations in the Alliance,” Alphinaud said triumphantly. “Words cannot well express my joy. None of this would have been possible without you, my friend,” he added with a grin. “Change is coming to Eorzea. Though it will inevitably bring with it a measure of upheaval, with hard work, peace and prosperity are sure to follow. And yet, even as we look forward to the coming of a new age, we must needs be wary of old threats. The lords of Garlemald have not relinquished their claim upon Eorzea, and we shall be forced to contend with them again ere long. And then there is the matter of our comrade Estinien, claimed body and soul by Nidhogg… If there is a way to rescue him, we must find it. Suffice it to say, the path ahead holds no shortage of challenges, but together, we shall overcome them.”

“But!” Tataru said, cutting in, “the time has come to speak of some of our missing fellows! I know that we have found Thancred and Y’shtola, but still Yda and Papalymo are missing. That said, the remains of their linkpearls have been found – and in the _Pearl Lane_ of all places. Riol thinks they must have disposed of them after escaping from the Royal Promenade.”

“Yes, that would make sense…” Alphinaud agreed. “They could not risk being eavesdropped upon by our betrayers.”

“We’re all but certain they fled the city shortly after… though we still don’t have a clue where they went.”

“I see. And what of Minfilia?”

“I’m afraid I have nothing new to share about her. But it’s not all doom and gloom! The good news is, we’ve enlisted the services of Sharlayan scholar – one of the Students of Baldesion – to aid in the search, who should be arriving any day now!”

“One of the Students, you say? I should very much like to meet this scholar – if time permits,” Alphinaud said. “But first we must attend to a more pressing matter. Ser Aymeric has summoned the two of us for a private audience,” he explained as he turned to face T’lorna. “The messenger did not specify what he wished to discuss – on that it was urgent. Assuming you have no objections, T’lorna, I suggest we proceed to the Congregation forthwith. And mayhap we can meet with the scholar afterwards. Agreed?”

“I can stay and keep an eye on Noah for a bit,” Tataru offered. “After that, I need to return to the Forgotten Knight. Things are liable to fall apart if I’m gone too long, you know!”

T’lorna nodded in agreement. Glancing at her son and seeing that he was happily patting the rug and gurgling, she whispered to Tataru to keep a close eye on him while she herself went to her rooms to change.

In the year she had lived in Ishgard, T’lorna had gotten used to wearing all-black. However, her current dress was mussed and stained – a light stain of spit-up on the shoulder marred it and it no longer fit her as well as it had in the days just after her son was born. If she was going to meet with Ser Aymeric in an official capacity, she needed to change clothing. Going through her closet, she found a floor-length black dress that was both comfortable and stylish. She quickly removed her “normal every-day” clothing and set it aside to be washed before changing into the more formal clothing. She made certain to pull on the elbow-length black gloves, taking a moment to twist the wedding band she still wore. She could remember Raha slipping it on to her finger. With a grin that turned to a grimace, she pulled the shoulders up, covering the scar of his bite. Then, she brushed her waist-length blonde hair out and braided it, twisting it into a chiffon that she could cover with a black net and then add a black scarf to. Though she was no longer expected to wear full mourning clothes, it was better to stick to tradition than endure the stares and gossip – especially the gossip that had her half in love with the Lord Commander. She rolled her eyes at that. First, most of Ishgard had thought her involved with Haurchefant. But, when he died, giving up his life to save hers, the expectation had transferred to Aymeric. She revered both men and respected them, but her heart and soul would _always_ belong to Raha.

Satisfied with her outfit and the respectability it denoted, T’lorna returned to the main room to walk with Alphinaud to the Congregation.

~*~*~*~

_“For all our talk of peace, the people remain frightened and confused. For their sake, we must bring the Dragonsong War to a definitive end.”_

_“Never did I think to see a knight of Ishgard come unto Anyx Trine bearing words instead of steel...”_

T’lorna thought back over Aymeric’s and Vidofnir’s words. It was true that putting a stop to the Archbishop and his Ascian allies was not enough to end the division between dragonkind and mortal. Something more would be needed. An act undertaken by mortals on behalf of the dragons. Vidofnir’s concerns about the Gnath gave T’lorna the beginnings of an idea. If the tribes of creatures were causing trouble for the dragons of Anyx Trine, then perhaps a visit to their lands was in order to see why the once-quiet Gnath had suddenly become riled enough to attack the great dragons. But first, they needed to do what they could to locate Minfilia while there was still a chance she could be rescued.

“We’ll need to head to Idyllshire and seek out Y’shtola and the others. Perhaps we’ll even get to meet our Sharalayn scholar friend there as well,” Alphinaud said. “Maybe this person could even help us with uncovering why the Gnath are causing our Dravanian friends so much trouble of late.”

“Perhaps,” T’lorna said, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “That would be a good idea. I know that we need to find Minfilia first while there is still a chance that she can be saved. But it’s worth considering keeping a scholar around for a bit.”

“And maybe this person will have memories of your husband that they can share with you,” Alphinaud said somewhat dryly. T’lorna shot him a glare. “Please, my friend, now that it is just short of six months until the second anniversary of your husband’s departure. Your son, who apparently looks just like his father, has begun to sit up on his own and develop a personality that is unique to him. I’ve seen the look in your eyes and on your face from time to time and I know that you miss him. I miss my sister but at least I know that Alisaie and I will see each other again even if I don’t know exactly when. You, on the other hand, my friend…”

“It is difficult,” T’lorna admitted. “And I do sometimes ache to talk about Raha and hear more about his life before the Crystal Tower. So, thank you, Alphinaud. That was rather thoughtful of you.”

“I _can_ be considerate. And, I am getting better at taking care of myself.”

“I can see. Estinien will be proud of you when he returns.”

“Think you he will?”

“Of course. Eventually he’d gain control of Nidhogg enough to free himself. At least, we need to hold on to that belief until it’s been proven wrong.”

“There are so many things coming to a head at once,” Alphinaud sighed. “Ser Aymeric wants to build a lasting peace and put the Dragonsong War in the past. The Gnath have begun making nuisances of themselves. We finally have a hint of Minfilia. Estinien vanishes…”

“Enough,” T’lorna said firmly. “We have enough troubles in front of us without stressing over others. Let’s focus on the search for Minfilia first and then tackle the others in turn.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna and Alphinaud rode her chocobo into Idyllshire with Lucia having chosen to remain behind in Anyx Trine before returning to Ishgard. As they entered the bustling town that had once been the center of Sharlayan teaching, Alphinaud let himself half-slide, half-fall off the chocobo’s back and then walked over to where Y’shtola stood. T’lorna shook her head and then dismounted and sent the bird to the nearby stables.

“Ah, T’lorna – ‘tis good to see you. I confess, I had assumed your business in Anyx Trine would detain you longer. Did your meeting with Vidofnir go well?” Y’shtola asked.

“As well as can be expected. She must discuss Ser Aymeric’s proposal with Hraesvelgr, of course, but she seemed amenable to the suggestion,” Alphinaud replied. “But what of our Sharlayan guest? Has she arrived yet?”

“She has, but when I explained that you would be joining us, she asked if she might use the intervening time to explore. I agreed to meet her outside on Frontbridge. We should be on our way.” With that, the silver-haired Miqo’te began to walk out towards the Frontbridge with T’lorna and Alphinaud following her. When they arrived, T’lorna spotted a Lalafell woman wearing a bright yellow jacket, the hood pulled up, walking towards them.

“I am terribly, terribly sorry to have kept you all waiting!” she said, her bell-like voice merry.

“You need not apologize,” Y’shtola said with a wave of dismissal. “We arrived but a moment ago ourselves.” Turning to T’lorna, she continued. “Pray allow me to introduce Krile, who is recently come from the Sharlayan motherland. She has generously offered to assist us.”

“Oh please,” Krile said with a curtsy, “think nothing of it! A trip to Eorzea was long overdue. You must be the Warrior of Light. Yes… you certainly do look the part. A pleasure to meet you at last, miss. Or perhaps madam would be more appropriate given that you wear Ishgardian Widow’s Weeds.”

“My name will do fine,” T’lorna said, nodding in respect. “I am T’lorna Zhiki. I believe you may have known my late husband, G’raha Tia.”

“I knew G’raha quite well,” Krile said, her eyes clouding. “I had not heard he died.”

“It’s a long story,” T’lorna replied. “One I will share with you whenever you want.”

“And who is that I spy but young Alphinaud Leveilleur himself!” Krile said as her gaze fell on the young Elezen. T’lorna glanced over and saw that the young man was distinctly ill-at-ease, his body tight with tension and his face a perfect example of embarrassment. Krile was obviously using the Elezen’s discomfort to distract herself from her own. “I daresay someone’s grown an ilm or two in my absence – or are those lifts in your boots?”

“We, uh…” Alphinaud stammered as he blushed and tried to put the best face on things. “Ahem. Miss Krile and I met at the Studium, years ago. I shall forever be indebted to her for her sage guidance.”

“It was no small task keeping him out of trouble, believe you me!” Krile laughed. “The youngest ever to enter the Studium – him and his sister, eleven-year-old prodigies. Suffice it to say, social graces were not among his list of talents! Striding up to his seniors on his first day, head held high – what was it he said again…?” she said, her eyes bright with mischief.

“ _Thank you_ , Krile!” Alphinaud gasped in panic. His eyes grew as wide as saucers and he held his hands up pleadingly, begging her with his face not to continue her tale. T’lorna watched with amusement. It was not often that she got to see the self-contained Elezen youth so out of sorts. She would have to get Krile to tell her some of these stories.

“For what? I haven’t finished yet,” Krile quipped. “Would you care to attempt a more dexterous deflection?”

“Ahem… Mayhap we should save this delightful conversation for a more fitting occasion, when pressing matters do not demand our undivided attention,” he suggested.

“A bit much, but better,” Krile teased. “I can tell you have been putting your skills to use here in Eorzea. Henceforth, I trust you will dazzle me with your eloquence at the _first_ time of asking.” Alphinaud sighed and let his head hang, his shoulders bent in defeat. Y’shtola shrugged and T’lorna grinned at the youth’s obvious discomfort. “Right. On to more pressing matters,” Krile said quickly. “Finding Minfilia.”

“I gather you have new information to share with us,” Y’shtola said calmly.

“A new approach, actually. Tataru recounted the tale of your escape, and it gave me an idea,” Krile said. “Simply put, assuming Thancred left some manner of trail when you whisked him away – as is almost always the case with teleportation magicks – I am confident I can find and follow it.”

“Then what are you waiting for!?” Alphinaud demanded.

“The wherewithal to do it,” she explained. “The fact is, my abilities aren’t quite up to the task. Not in themselves, anyway. If I had Master Matoya’s Crystal Eye, on the other hand…”

“Then let us all call on her forthwith,” Y’shtola suggested. “I think it best that you explain your plan to her in person.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and, together, they set off for Master Matoya’s cave.

~*~*~*~

“You say that you _married_ G’raha Tia?” Krile asked T’lorna. Y’shtola and Alphinaud were far ahead of them and were speaking quietly amongst themselves. “How did _that_ come to happen? G’raha once mentioned that he had a promised wife from the Condor tribe but then he claimed she had died in the Calamity. How did you come to win his heart, then?”

“I suspect,” T’lorna explained, “that I was that promised wife. Hints from what my father, the nuhn of the Condor tribe, and from what Raha himself told me give me enough to suspect that. But, Raha and I met while I was working with Cid to unlock the Crystal Tower.”

“Raha was obsessed with his Allagan heritage,” Krile said softly. “Indeed, most of his studies involved ancient Allag. So,” she continued, turning her attention to the present, “you met during that expedition. I still remember when he received a letter from Rammbroes to join them in Mor Dhona…”

“Yes,” T’lorna nodded. “Rammbroes was part of the expedition. Cid brought me on in order to get the ‘fangs’ he needed to bring down the Sentinels. Apparently Raha showed up halfway through that. He led me on a merry chase,” she said with a soft smile of remembrance. “At any rate, once we had gathered up the materials needed, Raha showed himself to us and he and I wound up traveling to the Sentinels together, talking all the while. Soon after that, we were sharing a tent because we were both night-owls obsessed with studying…”

“Yes,” Krile chuckled. “I can still remember how Raha used to find himself in trouble with the guards when he took it into his head to visit the library well after moon-set because he could not sleep. And how he used to doze through morning classes. But pray, continue.”

“We grew close,” T’lorna said softly as she remembered the nights that she and Raha had spent together. “I ventured into the Labyrinth of the Ancients with my friends from Valhalla. Raha followed us. He took care of me when I was weary from battle. Then Doga and Unei showed up and he spent some time with them, learning more about his heritage, while I and the others fought our way through the Syrcus Tower. We managed to clear it out and Raha had a better grasp on his place as a distant member of the Royal Family…”

“Yes?” Krile prompted.

“It’s strange. Valhalla and I fought and cleared the Tower – even defeating the Emperor Xande. Raha was there with me, taking care of me after the battles even if he himself had not fought in them alongside the rest of us. But I loved him and he loved me. Especially after he began to dream of gaining control over the Allagan devices. He had a nightmare one night. A dream where he let loose something that led to my death,” T’lorna sighed. “I can still remember how he shuddered and sweated in my arms. I loved him for it.”

“So, at some point, you two married…” Krile prompted.

“Yes. It was just after Xande had been defeated and we realized the danger waiting for the world in the World of Darkness left open by Xande’s unholy agreement,” T’lorna muttered. “We had spent weeks working through the secrets left in the Tower and helping Cid to come up with a way to open a portal to the World of Darkness. We hoped to rescue Unei and Doga and to put a permanent end to Xande’s covenant. Raha found these… chambers,” T’lorna sighed, flushing slightly. “Chambers that seemed to be meant for the two of us to share. He had once sworn that he would not take me in a tent for the rest of the camp to hear. But once we found those rooms…”

“You decided to swear to each other and marry,” Krile said coolly. “I’m not surprised. G’raha always was a romantic. How did he die? Fighting in the World of Darkness?”

“No,” T’lorna said quickly. “Raha and I swore to each other and consummated our marriage bond before either one of us set foot into the World of Darkness. I can still remember watching him deflect the attacks from the Cloud of Darkness using nothing more than his Allagan blood,” T’lorna smiled. “It shocked him as much as it did the rest of us. And then we were able to return…”

“Then how did he die?” Krile pressed.

“After we came back from the World of Darkness, we enjoyed some time together. But he knew that the Crystal Tower, with all its wonders, was a danger for the world. So, he decided to return it to a state of slumber with himself locked inside of it,” T’lorna sighed. “He did not know that his line would survive him. He did not know that I carried his son. And yet, he closed the Tower down and went into hibernation with it to keep me safe. To save me from his nightmares.”

“That sounds like the youth I knew,” Krile sighed. “He was always eager to sacrifice himself in some romantic manner. You said you have a son?”

“He’s the spitting image of his father,” T’lorna said with a grin. “He’s back in Ishgard at the moment but you can see him when we’re done here.”

“I look forward to that.”

~*~*~*~

They entered the cave tucked away in the hilly bluffs surrounded by the lake with ease. T’lorna grinned as she remembered the last time they had visited Master Matoya and how easily the elder had put Alphinaud out-of-sorts. Idly, she wondered if both Matoya and Krile together would be enough to have Alphinaud acting like a typical teenager.

“Is that trouble I smell,” Master Matoya asked wearily, “or did you forget to wipe your boots on the way in?”

“Forgive us, Master Matoya,” Y’shtola said smoothly. “We will be sure to wipe them on the way out. And may I say how glad I am that age has not yet deprived you of your senses.”

“Ever so quick-witted, aren’t we – to the detriment of your manners,” the old woman huffed. “Well, out with it then. What do you want?”

“Pray allow me to introduce myself, Master Matoya,” the Lafallen woman in the yellow robes said. “I am Krile, of the Students of Baldesion. I hope you will excuse our unannounced visit.”

“Baledsion, you say,” the crone muttered. “Ah, yes, the old coot set up shop on the Isle of Val, didn’t he?”

“Regrettably, our order’s headquarters – and the isle itself – were obliterated by a magick of immense power. I have the blessing of Light to thank for my own preservation.”

“Krile – you too possess the Echo?” Alphinaud asked in surprise.

“Well yes, of course I do,” the Lalafell grinned. “Our order is devoted to uncovering the mysteries of Hyadelyn and interpreting Her will, particularly through the study of Her gift to us. It was in the course of these studies that I met and subsequently befriended Minfilia. She and I have rather a lot in common.”

“I had no idea,” the young Elezen breathed.

“You were supposed to. Not that I wanted to deceive you, you understand, but precautions had to be taken.”

“Yes, yes,” the Hyur crone muttered. “That’s all well and good, but you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“The Students of Baldesion are gone, and there is naught I can do to change that,” Krile replied. “But the Scions of the Seventh Dawn can yet be restored and my dear friend found. You have in your possession an ancient Crystal of Light – one you call your ‘Crystal Eye.’ I believe I can use it to focus my abilities and locate one of the missing Scions,” Krile said.

“And here I thought you might want to make use of my years of experience…” she sighed. “Wait here.”

A few minutes later Matoya returned with the Crystal and Krile began her search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have another chapter ready to go tomorrow, I hope, which should get me caught up. :)


	34. Shadow and Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warriors of Darkness, a little interlude with the Condor tribe, and then the search for Minfilia starts in earnest. Lots going on in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Their search for Minfilia’s trail had led them back to where Thancred had been found. What they discovered there had T’lorna’s mind in a tumult.

 _Warriors of Darkness…_ she thought to herself. _Who are they? What are they doing here? And why were they stirring up Ravanna? That’s what had the Gnath riled up enough to attack the dragons so the fact that the primal has been dealt with – even if not by us – is a blessing. But why bring him back at all? What is their goal? And why can’t I get **his** face out of my mind?_

Their leader, the Warrior of Darkness himself, had the most arresting pale-blue eyes. He was a Hyur, a Mid-lander, with close-cropped brown hair that rose in wild spikes over his head. He had stubble along his chin and jaws as if he had not bothered to shave in a few days. Something about this strange man reached out to her and told her that, deep down, they were connected.

“That’s insane,” she muttered to herself. She was a Seeker Miqo’te, female, and a mother. The Warrior of Darkness was nothing to her. He wielded an axe while she worked spells.

But still… his face haunted her.

“ _Mark well our faces, Warrior of Light,_ ” he’d said, his blue eyes blazing into her own, _“for we are the Warriors of Darkness. Walkers of a different path. And we shall meet again._ ”

“Blessed with the power of the Echo, and driven to put down primals...” Alphinaud was saying, drawing her attention to the present. “Despite his declaration that they walk a different path, I struggle to see how their goals conflict with ours. Nor is that the only oddity. I find it passing strange that such exceptional individuals should have wholly escaped our notice until now. Surely we would have heard rumors and attempted to recruit them to our cause?”

“I recall no such adventurers – and I would not soon forget their like. Nor would any of us, I think. One of our primary duties was to scour the city-states for promising candidates — which is how we found T’lorna,” Y’shtola muttered.

“Ah, the memories,” Thancred sighed. “It seems like only yesterday that you slew your first primal,” he said, grinning at T’lorna. “Speaking of which, I had the distinct impression that it was not the first time that band of merry men and women had killed a god.”

“I labor to believe that a band of preternaturally gifted adventurers has been traveling the land, slaying primals without our knowledge. ‘Twould imply gross negligence on our part,” Y’shtola hissed.

“Speculation will avail us naught. There is far too much we do not know. For the present, we must needs concentrate on what we do know, namely that Lord Ravana is no more. Vidofnir must be informed. The news may render her more receptive to Ser Aymeric's invitation,” Alphinaud said, interjecting his remarks to the more abstract conversation.

“Since you seem to have affairs here well in hand, I shall take my leave,” Krile replied. “Simply being in the vicinity of this colony is giving me a stinking headache. If you have need of me, I shall be with Master Matoya. I would beg her assistance with the search for Minfilia.”

~*~*~*~

When the group returned to Anyx Trine, they split up with Krile returning to Master Matoya’s cave while T’lorna and the rest of the Scions headed up the winding corridors to meet with Vidofnir. The great dragon was in her normal chamber and lifted her head as the mortals walked into the room. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“I had not thought to see thee again so soon, mortal. If thou sleekest the knight, know that she hath long since departed for Ishgard,” Vidofnir said.

“My thanks, Vidofnir,” Alphinaud said with his customary grace, “but it was not for her that we came. We bring good tidings for you and yours. Lord Ravana, who had been summoned by the Gnath, has again been laid low.”

“Truly?” the dragon said in pleasant shock. “Once more you mortals have succeeded where mine own kind did fail. You have our deepest thanks.”

“Would that we could take credit. The god fell by another’s hand,” Alphinaud said quickly.

“Another?” Vidofnir blinked in surprise and shook her head slightly. “Revelation upon revelation. Regardless, it is cause for celebration. The Gnath will have no choice but to withdraw. But to another matter. I have tidings for thee as well.”

“Regarding the Ishgardians’ invitation?” Alphinaud asked hopefully.

“As promised, I brought the matter to my sire. Hearken to his answer now. ‘For a thousand years have I mourned my beloved, who gave her life to forge a peace thy king betrayed. Such was my lot, until a child of Ishgard came unto me. For want of warmth, she wrapped herself in a dream. Yet the world will remember her deeds. For truth, she fought. For justice, she sinned. For redemption, she sacrificed, and became as light. To follow one’s heart, to have faith in one’s convictions – be it for weal, or be it for woe. Such is the folly and the glory of man… and of dragon.’ He hath entrusted the choice to us, and we have made it,” Vidofnir continued in her own words. “We will keep faith with you who walk in the Light.”

T’lorna felt herself beginning to relax. It seemed that, even with the appearance and interference of these strange Warriors of Darkness, the long war that had ravaged Ishgard and the Dravanians was coming to an end.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna watched the little girl scramble away to safety and heaved a sigh of relief when some of the maids from House Fortemps came out carrying her son in their arms. Noah waved and squealed at his mother, doing his best to get out of his nurse’s hold. T’lorna rushed over to him and picked him up, surprised at how much he had grown in the past few weeks. He scowled at her and kicked his feet, babbling angrily, until she set him down on the ground where he immediately began working on standing up. He clutched her skirts to hold himself up but grinned at her in triumph.

“Gods be good,” T’lorna muttered to herself. She knew he had started crawling – she’d had to start putting her weapons well out of reach each evening when she came home – but to see him standing up already? Even if he couldn’t balance himself very well and his tail lashed wildly trying to keep him upright. “It’s not going to be much longer before you’re walking, is it, young man?”

“Mama!” Noah shrieked as he clutched fistfuls of her black skirts and tugged. He fell back on his rump and stared at her in surprise before pointing to some of the still-smoldering embers. T’lorna bent down and took his hands in her own, helped him back to his feet, and guided his steps for a short time as Thancred, Alphinaud, and Y’shtola watched with mixtures of shock and amusement.

“He’s not even a year old!” Alphinaud muttered.

“Miqo’te children walk earlier than Elezen or Hyur children,” Y’shtola explained. “By the time he’s seen one full turn of the seasons, he’ll be running all over the place.”

“Tola! Mama! Alfie! Tank!” Noah shrieked in delight.

“And talking,” Thancred said hoarsely. “Even if just barely. Well, hello there, little man,” the Hyur said as he squatted down to be on eye-level with the child. “What are you doing?”

“Mama!” Noah said loudly and then tugged one of his hands away to reach out and grab at Thancred’s long, white hair. The man winced slightly but scooped the boy up into his arms, settling him over his hip and doing his best to keep Noah from grabbing for the hilts of his daggers or the cloth he wore covering his blinded eye.

“I swear, just last week he couldn’t hold his head up. But then we go off for a few days to speak with the dragons and I return to find him trying to walk,” T’lorna said, her voice filled with both pride and regret.

“Don’t blame yourself for missing it,” Thancred said. “You have been a bit busy in the past month and a half since we killed the archbishop. And you have been home to feed him and tuck him in every evening.”

“I know, but still,” T’lorna sighed.

“What dat!” Noah screamed as he watched the dragon fly off. “Why go?”

“That, my son,” T’lorna said with a grin and she put her face right up against his, “is Vidofnir the dragon. Can you say ‘dragon?’”

“Dagon.”

“Close enough,” T’lorna laughed. Noah clutched at her face and she kissed his hands before taking him from his uncle ‘Tank’ and setting him back on the ground. She kept an eye on him as he first tried to walk but could not keep his balance and then as he contented himself with crawling, stopping to sit and study the pebbles he found in the street. She decided to wait until he started to fuss before trying to pick him up again. The fires had the cobblestones warmer than they normally would have been and it would do him some good to start exploring a bit more of the world beyond the manor.

“Perhaps I should take him to stay with my family,” T’lorna muttered to herself as Alphinaud and Thancred walked off to meet up with Tataru. Y’shtola excused herself, patting Noah on the head fondly and ruffling his hair and ears, and T’lorna turned back to walk towards the Fortemps manor. She stopped along the way a few times, ducking into the public gardens and letting her son explore them, crawling along the paths and grasping onto handholds as he pulled himself up and then pulled himself along the flowerbeds, benches, and walls. He babbled as his mother, his words occasionally almost making sense and she encouraged him, correcting him and repeating his words back to him. Around her, she could hear the sounds of various fire companies and soldiers restoring order and putting out the last few fires. Finally, when the sun began to set, she plucked Noah up and returned to the manor. As they entered the main room, she overheard Alphinaud speaking to Tataru.

“That Vidofnir should chance to arrive even as the girl fell… Truly, I could not have planned it better myself." He turned to T’lorna who was just setting Noah down and opened his mouth but was cut off when Artoirel and Emmanellian strode into the room.

“Ah, good,” Artoirel said. “We were afraid you might have left.” Artoirel nodded to the steward who walked over and opened a cabinet. He returned and bowed slightly to T’lorna, handing her the shield was carrying. The emblem of House Fortemps was emblazoned upon its face.

“A shield, my lord?” Alphinaud asked curiously.

“Fit for a true knight. An expression of our gratitude to you and yours,” Artoirel explained as T’lorna accepted it with a soft smile, “long overdue. But there is something else I would discuss ere you part. Something which cannot leave this room. My father will soon step down as head of our house.” The three Scions gasped in shock at the news. “Ser Aymeric was not the only one to fall under suspicion following the death of the archbishop,” Artoirel explained. “There are some who believe my father complicit in a coup d’etat. Thus he intends to renounce his title to absolve our house of suspicion and secure the support of our peers.”

“Surely there must be another way to convince houses Durendaire and Dzemael?” Alphinaud protested.

“So I said to him,” Artoirel sighed. “Alas, he will not budge. Ever since I was a child, I knew that I would one day succeed my father, and the thought of it filled me with pride. Yet once I learned the day was at hand, my heart was filled with naught but dread. Our legacy is built upon the lies of our forefathers. In accepting this title, am I not perpetuating this injustice? Why should I become the next count?”

“A knight lives to serve,” T’lorna said softly.

“You sound just like him,” Artoirel said with another soft, said smile. “Aye, I suspect that is what Haurchefant would have said. ‘To aid those in need...’ When you look on that shield, I trust you will remember his words. And should I once more find my resolve wavering, I ask that you show me the way. You were a sister to Haurchefant. Will you be a sister to me as well?” T’lorna nodded and the soon-to-be-count grinned at her in relief. “Come, Emmanellain,” he said to his brother. “There is much to be done. For Father, and for Ser Aymeric. And for Ishgard,” Turning, he watched his younger brother blanch and look almost as if he would protest before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Artoirel sighed. “To think we share the same blood... Pray excuse us,” he added with another bow to T’lorna.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna found herself laughing in delight at the shocked look on her son’s face whenever the water “ran away” from him as he sat on the sandy beach in the shallows. With all of Ishgard preparing for the treaty-signing ceremonies that would formally – and finally – put an end to the Dragonsong War and with several new heads of houses taking the reigns of power, she had decided to take her son to spend a few moons with her tribe.

She had not regretted the decision. Noah was walking easily now, chasing after his cousins. The way he eyed the trees that surrounded the tribal homegrounds already made her nervous even if, at just shy of a year, he was nowhere near tall enough or strong enough to try climbing them.

But he could and did climb everything else he could reach. Several times she had scurried through the camp in a nervous tizzy searching for him only to find him climbing up to hide behind a basket or kneeling in a window, his red tail waving in happiness.

“That young man is going to be a racer when he grows up,” she heard Thancred say from the shade of the trees nearby. “The climate here agrees with you, my dear friend. You’ve actually gotten some color.”

“And you’re a little overdressed for the beach, Unka Tank,” T’lorna laughed.

“I suppose I am at that. Luckily, I brought a change of clothes. Little Kit hasn’t seen me, yet?”

“He’s still trying to figure out why the water runs away from him,” T’lorna grinned as she watched her son chase the waves for a few feet only to turn around and try to race them back to the shore. She could hear Thancred removing his shirts and boots and setting his knives up on the branch where she had her own sword and shield as well as her staff. Ever since the fight with the archbishop and Estinien’s absorption into Nidhogg, T’lorna had begun to practice more with the blade.

“Unka Tank!” Noah screamed when he saw the Hyur standing next to his mother. Pumping his chubby legs as fast as he could, Noah ran straight for Thancred and wrapped his arms around the Hyur’s calf. “Wadah! Uncle Tank! You, me, Mama now!”

“I suppose that means you want to go swimming,” Thancred guessed.

“Yeah! Simming now!”

“Not too far out,” T’lorna warned both boys as she stood up and walked into the water as well. She knew, from experience, that Noah would behave better if she were nearby.

They spent nearly an hour splashing in the shallows until venturing out where the water was chest-deep for Thancred. Noah paddled enthusiastically, if not very skillfully, between the two adults until he started to tire down. Before T’lorna could say a word, Thancred hefted the boy up on his shoulders and began walking back to the village with T’lorna promising to gather up and carry their gear.

“So, you found them all right,” she heard her father say as Thancred swung Noah down to the ground.

“They weren’t difficult to find but I thank you for the directions regardless.”

“You haven’t come to call them back into action, have you?” Zhiki asked softly. T’lorna hurried over to her hut and tossed their gear inside so she could rush back and keep Noah from trying to pull the soup off the fire. Zhiki, with the ease of one who has raised numerous children, beat her to the punch and swung his grandson up, holding him upside down, and teasing him while T’lorna picked up a few bowls and dished out a late lunch.

“Any word on Minfilia?” she asked as she sipped at her soup. Noah drank his down quickly, spilling only about a third of it down his chest. Zhiki plucked a cloth from his belt pouch and cleaned the boy up and reminded him, in a stern tone, not to spill so much food. Noah nodded, his ruby eyes wide, and did begin to drink more slowly.

“Yes,” Thancred said. “We believe that she may be found in the Antitower. And, again, it will be up to Master Matoya to decide if we may enter it since she is its keeper. Krile, Y’shtola, and Alphinaud begged me to come search you out and see if you and a few of your friends might be willing to led us into it. I know that you have been enjoying your time off…”

“I’ll come but I’m going to leave Noah here with his grandparents,” T’lorna said calmly. “And I don’t want to be away long. If it looks like we’ll be gone for more than a week…”

“I will come and fetch the lad myself,” Thancred promised.

“Lorna,” Zhiki said slowly, warningly. “What of…”

“His father’s tribe? Has word come from them yet?”

“You know that our messenger probably only just reached Ilsabard,” Zhiki sighed. “I was going to ask ‘what of your plans to take Noah to see his father’s resting place?’ You mentioned that you wanted to do that for his first birthday.”

“I do and I will,” T’lorna said. “I know, it’s just a half-moon from now but I don’t think exploring this Antitower will take more than a day. Two at most. Once we have found Minfilia, I’ll know if I am going to be returning to the tribe for another break or if matters are in motion that require my presence.”

“You must do as Hydaelyn bids for you,” Zhiki sighed. “True, we have enjoyed having our shaman back these past few moons and I adore my little grandson. But, if your destiny is to live abroad again, I’ll accept it. I’ll send you word when we hear from the G tribe.”

“I’ll go dress and pack now. Thancred will stay the night in the Tias’ hut and we’ll head out just after breakfast.”

With that, T’lorna rose, took her son’s empty bowl, and returned to her hut to make the necessary preparations.

~*~*~*~

“Why go, Mama?” Noah asked the next morning as he watched her pack away the last few things she would take. “I go, too?”

“No, Noah. You’re going to stay here with Grampa. Mama will be back in a few days.”

“Why go?”

“To find your Aunt Minfilia.”

“Who dat?”

“She’s a good friend who is lost and needs me to come find her.”

“Oh. Okay. Back soon?”

“I’ll be back in this many days, if I can,” T’lorna said as she held up four fingers. “If I’m going to be gone longer than that, Unka Tank will come get you and bring you to me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Noah shrugged as he walked over to his bedroll and pulled the doll that Rammbroes had given him out. T’lorna sighed. Noah always kept track of his “daddy doll” but was generally content to leave it “night night.” However, whenever he was anxious, he would carry the doll with him until he felt safe and secure. “Take daddy for walk,” he explained as he snuggled the doll to his chest. “Then he night night.”

“Be good for your Grampa and Granma,” T’lorna sighed as she knelt down and gave her son a hug and a kiss. “Remember, this many days and Mama will see you again,” she repeated, holding up four fingers. Noah kissed her back and then sat down in the doorway of the hut, clutching his only memento of his father as he watched his mother walk out of the tribe’s grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, going back through these old quests I realized that the relationship between Thancred and Minfilia is a lot more complicated than I had thought. That's caused me to change a few things that will be more apparent in later chapters. But, we're going to start seeing the first hints of Dadcred soon.
> 
> Also, I know that I have Noah speaking and walking WAY early. Back when I started writing this fanfic, I read somewhere that Miqo'te only lived to be about 60 or so. Therefore, all my notes on Noah's age-range milestones were based on that. Last week, I saw that Miqo'te have the same lifespans as Hyurs so I'm going to have to throw my notes out the window. So, for the stuff I can't change easily (the stuff up until he's about 3), he's going to be advanced but still within some credible range (like, he's NOT going to start speaking in fully fleshed out, complex sentences for a LONG time) but he may do some stuff that has you going "wait, he's like... a year old."


	35. Reunion Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we see the reunions with Minfilia and Estinien...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“Oh, what a surprise,” Master Matoya muttered as the group entered her cave. “Well? What secrets have you come to extract from me this time?”

Alphinaud blanched but was the first to speak. “Ah. Though it pains me to admit it, your words strike close to the mark. We humbly ask that you grant us entry to the Antitower, that we might use it to seek a friend who we believe has been transported to the aetherial sea.”

“And who told you I could do such a thing, I wonder,” Matoya muttered. “The tower was abandoned to its magical keepers fifteen years ago. They have the run of the place now. If that is no deterrent to you, then by all means.”

“Is that all?” Y’shtola asked in surprise. “I felt sure you would seek to dissuade us from our course, given your role as custodian.”

“Role? Hardly. The Forum foisted the title on me. During the exodus, every entrance to the Antitower was sealed save one. My _role_ consists of making sure no one with ill intent sneaks through it. Such was the Forum’s final ‘order’ to me. Well? I can remove the wards right now. Will you be going or not?” Matoya asked testily.

“We will, Master Matoya. We will do whatever it takes to find Minfilia!” Krile said firmly.

The elder woman shook her head. “We'll see about that. T’lorna can go. Take the magickless rogue too if you like ─ he’s no use to me. The rest of you will stay and work, and I’ll hear no argument. Those are my terms.”

“Oh,” Thancred said, sounding stunned. “...And I should be delighted to accompany you. Lead the way, T’lorna.”

Y'shtola reached out a hand in protest as she spoke. “Thancred, no. Your aetheric flow has been compromised. Do not deny it. To venture into an environment so thick with aether, so close to the aetherial sea would be to risk further impairment ─ or worse.”

“But Minfilia could be in there, waiting for us!”

“And you could die ─ and for what? If she is waiting beyond, T’lorna will find her. Trust in her. Have faith!”

“Damn it all...” Thancred sighed. “...Bring her back to us,” he pleaded.

“I will,” T’lorna promised. “Let me call up a few friends and we’ll see what we can do.”

~*~*~*~

“I see someone is expanding her horizons,” Geralin said dryly when he spied T’lorna dressed in plate armor with a sword at her waist and a shield slung over her back. “Is this why you asked if I had been practicing my astrologian training?”

“It is,” T’lorna nodded. “I trust you feel that you can handle taking on my normal role while I take over yours?”

“I can do it well enough,” Geralin sighed. “Syris and Jinpu have a running bet on which of us will screw things up the most.”

“Well, I’ll bet that neither of us will make major mistakes. I’ve spent the past few months practicing with the warriors in my tribe.”

“Then you should be just skilled enough to handle anything we’re going to encounter in here. Did you do your homework ahead of time or are you going to rely on me to tell you what I’ve read of the place?”

“I know enough. Matoya and the others gave me the short version.”

“Then let’s get going,” Geralin nodded.

~*~*~*~

“Pay up,” Geralin said, half-laughing, half-panting after the final encounter. “She held her own the whole way through and the worst injury any of us got were a few bruises.”

“She did alright,” Jinpu nodded, his ears flicking back and forth as he studied the strange light-filled portal. “She needs to work on her stamina, though.”

“She can hear you just fine,” T’lorna wheezed as she knelt down. She had her sword thrust into the ground in front of her, using it as a crutch to keep her from pitching forward on her face.

“We can enchant her armor with a light-weight spell,” Syris shrugged as he reached for his wallet to pay out the bet. “Hell, I do that myself so it’s not like it’s cheating.”

“Everyone with half a brain does that,” Geralin agreed. “At least until well after they build up the muscles to carry normal-weighted armor without it wearing them out.”

“I swear by Azeyma herself,” T’lorna gasped, “as soon as I have enough energy, I’m going to beat all of you over the head and shoulders with my shield.”

“I would advise against that,” Jinpu said calmly. “Geralin and Syris easily have two feet on you and even I have longer arms. Don’t grapple with an opponent who has a longer reach than you unless you’ve studied hand-to-hand combat more.”

“Well, I am going to have to learn how Estinien fights in case I run across him,” T’lorna muttered as he tried to force herself to breathe normally. “I’ll add training with the pugalists to my list for right after that.”

“You’ll also probably want to get some soul stones made to help you,” Geralin added. “You were so focused on your studies in healing that we never thought to make any for you.”

“Ugh.”

“Put it this way, once you’ve properly attuned your armor and weapons to the soul stone, you can leave them on the other side of the world and, just by focusing your will, have them transform around you. Makes traveling easier since you don’t have to worry about packing and carrying eight million different kits around with you.”

“That makes a surprising amount of sense,” T’lorna agreed. She pushed herself to her feet and sighed in relief. Her heart no longer felt like it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. “I’m going to see what’s waiting in that too-friendly portal. You wait here. If I’m not back in a few bells…”

“We’ll seek out Master Matoya and Krile,” Geralin agreed. “Good luck.”

With a quick nod, T’lorna sheathed her blade and stepped through the portal, letting the light fill her.

~*~*~*~

She recognized this place now – the place where her visions of the Mothercrystal took her. Hydaelyn hung, floating in the distance. All around her, T’lorna could sense the vastness of life itself. She could hear a chorus of voices – some newly-born, some dreaming, and some recently deceased – making a gentle din around her.

And then, up ahead, she saw a woman clothed in the Light itself.

“Minfilia,” she gasped as the woman turned slowly. The Antecedent looked both older and younger than she had been. Her hair was no longer cropped short but instead flowed down her back and shoulders. Braids coiled and decorated it. Instead of the long leather skirt she had favored in life, she wore a girlish pink dress. And her eyes… large, bright blue, luminous, and without pupils.

“Hear... Feel... Think...” Minfilia’s voice sang, ringing out with the power of the Mothercrystal itself. “Through time and space hast thou journeyed unto me...as I knew thou wouldst. We are the Word of the Mother. We who were once called ‘Minfilia.’ Much time hath passed for thee, since the bloody banquet. Since...since I hearkened to Her word. Mother... Hydaelyn guided me...towards Y’shtola and Thancred, that I might be swept up in their Flow...and delivered unto the aetherial sea... There, adrift and alone, Her voice silent once more, I prayed... For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.”

“Are you one we cannot save, Minfilia?” T’lorna asked softly. “Is there no way for you to return to us?”

Minfilia ignored her and continued to speak. “To Her I would make an offering... We speak now with one Voice. One Will. One Word. Unto thee we bequeath the most precious of gifts: the truth which lieth at the heart of this world. Thus do we beseech thee once more... Hear... Feel... Think...”

“As you wish, then,” T’lorna sighed. The next words that washed over her shook her to her core.

“Before there was life, in the depths of the aetherial sea, Light and Dark did once dwell as one,” the Voice of the Mother explained. “But the Darkness coveted power, and the balance was broken. Thus was I forced to banish Him unto the distant heavens, to forever remain apart. A moon bound. In sundering the star did we cry out, and the barriers ‘twixt planes chance to falter. Across ten and three were we then divided. Reflections of the Source, each possessed of a shard. Zodiark longeth to be made whole. For His restoration, for His resurrection, His servants labor without cease. They seek to tear down the barriers which surround the Source. Thus do they rejoice in their Ardor ─ in your calamities ─ for each marks a Rejoining. Seven times have they succeeded. Seven times hath the Darkness grown stronger. Seven times have I failed. The Ascians cannot be suffered to continue. This...this is my final...” Minfilia sighed and shook her head sadly. “The crystal's power is all but spent. With what remains, I will return you to the shore of the aetherial sea. Blessed children, go forth and seek...seek...”

The light filled T’lorna’s vision again and she felt herself being shoved away.

~*~*~*~

“Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all, O Great Word of the Mother Minfilia,” T’lorna muttered sourly as she finally felt herself regaining a sense of reality. She opened her eyes and was stunned to find herself back in Master Matoya’s cave with Geralin, Syris, and Jinpu standing near her. The Scions were there as well, their eyes wide in shock.

“Thank the Twelve!” Alphinaud cried.

“Did you find her!? Did you find Minfilia!?” Thancred demanded.

“The Word of the Mother…? I am not sure I understand,” Alphinaud muttered as he pondered what T’lorna had said as she and the others suddenly materialized in the cave.

“Nor am I. Krile?” Y’shtola asked.

The Lalafell seemed to be clearing her head as if an Echo-vision had struck her and she was still pondering it. “As unbelievable as it sounds, I see no reason to doubt her – the Word’s tale. No one was more sensitive to the will of Hydaelyn than Minfilia. And if Hydaelyn has grown so weak that She can barely make Herself heard, it is not hard to see why Minfilia, having joined with Her, might struggle to maintain her own form.”

“ _What_?” Alphinaud demanded. “Why would she need to ‘maintain her own form?’ Are you saying – Are you saying she’s gone? But that cannot be!” he protested. “Not now, not after all we have accomplished! We were meant to usher in the dawn’s light together!”

“She threw herself on the fire to fuel your ‘dawn’s light,’ boy. You’ll just have to usher it in on your own,” Matoya said with her customary brusqueness.

“Must you be so ungentle!?” Y’shtola snarled at her mentor.

“Tell me about the Scions, boy,” Matoya pressed, ignoring her former student and focusing her attention on the young Elezen.

“The… the Scions of the Seventh Dawn labor for Eorzea’s salvation,” Alphinaud said slowly. “Whenever the realm is threatened, be it by primal, Ascian, Garlean, or any other, we take up arms in her defense, that all in Eorzea may live to see a brighter tomorrow.”

“And that’s very noble of you. But in chasing after these lofty goals of yours, you seem to have lost sight of some basic truths,” Matoya replied. “To win a war, you must be willing to do whatever it takes. To fight, to kill, and, if necessary, to die. The path you’ve chosen is paved with the dead. Walk it with your eyes open, or not at all.”

“I know the truth of which you speak, and have from the first,” Y’shtola said as she rounded on the elder crone. “If the Asicans will go to any lengths to resurrect their god, then we must needs be as committed to our cause – to unmask them and their schemes, and to crush them both utterly. Come. There is much to be done.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” Krile stammered.

Thancred bowed his head in defeated and followed after Y’shtola and Krile. Matoya watched in him silence, as if she had expected nothing different.

“Thancred, wait! No... No, this is all wrong,” Alphinaud protested, holding his hand up as the others left the cave with only he and T’lorna remaining behind. Sighing, the young Elezen followed the others, hoping that, somehow, the Antecedent would return to them despite what he had learned.

They stepped outside the cave into the bright light of the day. The others had already departed, leaving just Alphinaud and T’lorna behind.

“She…she’s not coming back, is she?” Alphinaud asked softly.

“No,” T’lorna sighed. “She is not.”

“I know that, I do,” Alphinaud said quickly. “To give all for her beliefs was ever her way. So will we, as we must. What greater calling could there be than to stand against the Dark as defenders of the Light? And yet… where does it end?” he wondered. “The sacrifice, the loss… We carry on, as we must,” he muttered. “She went to great lengths to inform us of the enemy’s designs. We stand, as ever, against the Dark, as defenders of the Light. Yet for how long, I wonder. How much more loss must we endure…? It weighs on you too, I know,” he sighed. “I understand why she made her decision, and yet… Every time we lose another friend, I have to ask myself if there was not another way…”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna sighed wearily as she took a seat at the tavern in Falcon’s Nest. Thancred seemed determined as ever not to think or talk about the pain he was in now that he knew Minfilia would never again rejoin their camaraderie. Alphinaud, Y’shtola, and Tataru were busy trying to get more support among the Ishgardians for the conference which Ser Aymeric had called and T'lorna herself was doing her best to help House Fortemps make a decisive presence at said conference. Artoirel was doing his best but his younger brother, Emmanellain, seemed hell-bound and determined to screw things up. Still, T’lorna could not force herself to be angry with the younger Elezen. He was just a boy, a boy scarcely into youth. There was no reason to think he could, at this point, display even half the maturity of his two elder brothers, Artoirel and Haurchefant. Instead, she resolved to do her best to ensure that he did not do much damage to his family’s reputation with his immaturity.

“Still,” she whispered to herself as she settled in at one of the tables in Falcon’s Nest only tavern, “I wish he were a little more thoughtful. Twelve be good but I think even my toddler displays more foresight than young Emmanellain does. Thank the heavens that he has Honoroit to help him when he sets a foot too wrong,” she sighed.

“Cold out, en’t it?” the waitress said cheerily as she set a mug of steaming mulled wine in front of T’lorna. “Here ─ a mug on the house. Let’s get some color back in them cheeks! ‘Fraid food’ll be a bit longer than usual. We’ve got a lot of hungry folk to feed what with the conference and all,” she sighed. “So many people with cause to celebrate. To think there could be peace in our time, after all them years of fightin’… When I heard about the conference, I knew I had to come. I knew I had to be here ─ to do my bit. My husband, he… he died fighting the dragons, you see… And here we are, about to break bread with them. You all right, my lover? You look tired. Reckon you could do with a good long rest. After all you’ve done, I’d say you’ve earned it,” she said, almost tauntingly. T’lorna blinked as her eyelids grew heavy. “Sleep, now… sleeeeeep. Sleep and leave us to our affairs. This was never your fight,” the waitress muttered.

T'lorna struggled against the drugs that had been slipped into her wine. Part of her wanted nothing more than to sink down into a restful sleep. Perhaps she would dream of Raha… but part of her fought like a wildcat, surging against the desire to sleep and dream, clawing for wakefulness.

“Hey! Hey! This is no time for napping!” she heard Thancred shout as he shook her violently. T’lorna blinked and forced herself to waken fully. “Do you have your wits about you?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. Come with me ─ we have a crisis on our hands!”

T'lorna followed him out of the doors of the tavern and into the square. She saw the waitress who had brought her the drugged wine standing tall and proud and speaking to the crowd of Ishgardians gathered therein. She stood high atop the walls over the tavern, her dark red hair flowing down her face and shoulders like a banner.

“Hear me, brothers and sisters! Do not be fooled by the honeyed words of the Dravanians! The peace they promise is but a prelude to slaughter! Remember your husbands and wives, never returned from war! Your children, torn apart by fang and claw! All your loved ones, shown no mercy! Does not your heart cry out for vengeance!? Your blood boil at the injustice!? Remember the face of your enemy, brothers and sisters! Remember it and strike back!”

“You there!” Emmanellain said in a rush of panic. “Don't just stand around gawping! Do something, man! Stop her!”

“Yes, yes, my lord!” one of the Fortemps knights said as he drew back his bow and sighted in on the waitress. He let loose his arrow, striking her in her arm. It was not a mortal wound but the woman acted as though it were as she smiled in triumph.

“Augh! See! See here the true nature of the highborn! With lies and deception they lead us to our doom, and dare we raise our voices in dissent ─ death is our reward! This is the choice they have given us, brothers and sisters! Death by dragon's fang or death by nobleman's command! Death to all we hold dear! I spit on your choices, nobleman! You will take no more from me... No more! NO MORE!” she shouted as she let herself fall, a second arrow striking below her ribs.

Emmanellain stared at his knight in confusion. “What have you done!?” he demanded.

“I—I only did as you ordered, my lord…” the knight stammered.

The youngest son of House Fortemps could sense the crowd turning against him, the strange woman’s words inspiring them to bloodlust. Desperate to turn fault away from himself, he rounded on his loyal servant.

“I gave no such order!” he protested. “I did not! I… I never meant for anyone to…” Emmanellain backed away slowly, his gaze swiveling across the disapproving crowd. T’lorna could hear them muttering in anger.

“Gods, how could I have been so foolish!? She… she was right…” one said.

“What was that fool of a lordling thinking!? What did he think would happen!?”

“I'm still not sure what they were about. I thought they might try to destroy the relief, but…”

“He was not wrong to want to subdue to leader as quickly as able, for she may have spurred others to further violence. But to fire on her as the crowd looked on was beyond reckless.”

“It wasn't just young ones struggling with the guards. Older folk attacked them as well, screaming bloody murder…”

“This was to be the end of it. Casualties at a peace conference, Fury take me…”

“She seemed like such a nice girl. Always greeted me with a smile when she passed. Never would've guessed she had it in her.”

“Pray forgive me, my lord. It's been chaos since preparations for the conference began, and I needed all the help I could get, and… and… How was I to know!? I only realized what had happened after we inspected the mug. Master Thancred tells me it was a sleeping agent of some sort…”

“Seven hells, the least he could've done is stop the bloody fool before he shot the second arrow!”

“You should've seen the looks on their faces as they left. There's no fixing this.”

Thancred stared around at the crowd and frowned in distaste as T’lorna continued to try to shake off the effects of whatever had been in her drink. “I daresay that could not have played out any worse, given that the first commander and Lord Artoirel are not here to take control of the situation,” Thancred muttered. “I spoke with a messenger who said that they would be returning shortly, but until they do, naught will be done. Lord Emmanellain has retreated to the barracks and is refusing to speak to anyone. Therefore it falls to us to ensure that order has been fully restored. Come, let us walk the streets and speak with the people.”

T'lorna nodded and took a deep breath, inhaling the cold, crisp air to clear her head. Her vision was still blurry and she felt light-headed but knew that Thancred was right. “We’re going to get Noah after this,” she muttered. “And I’m going to beat the tar out of Emmanellain.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna stood by as Thancred loomed over Emmanellain. Part of her still wanted to punch the youngest Fortemps son dead in the face but she was content to let the Hyur handle matters.

“Gah! We were so close! Why does it all have to fall to pieces!? Don't they want to live in peace!? Don't they want to be happy!? We all want the same thing, and still ─ STILL it falls to pieces! Tell me: what ─ what was I supposed to do, hm!? Someone, anyone, tell me: what was I supposed to do!?” Emmanellain whined.

“Stop looking to others. You make your choice and you live with the consequences.”

Emmanellain exploded, striking Thancred across the jaw. The rouge took the blow without reacting. “And what would you know about consequences!?” Emmanellain said bitterly. “You who always know just what to say, and just what to do! Your every deed is greeted with a round of applause!”

T’lorna winced. The young Elezen had no idea just how difficult Thancred’s life had been. She was not surprised when Thancred balled up his fist and struck the youth in his chest, sending him sprawling down onto the cobbles of the street.

“You know nothing about me. I have fought tooth and nail for the people I hold dear ─ done everything in my power to save them… and I have failed. Learn to live with it. I have.” With that, Thancred stormed off while T’lorna watched Emmanellain push himself to his feet and _finally_ start taking care of Honoroit as he _should_ have been doing. T’lorna left him too it and followed after Thancred, catching up to him a short distance away.

“…I may have overreacted,” Thancred sighed. “But it needed to be done. He was becoming hysterical. I understand the desire to look for reasons. For excuses. To convince yourself you had no choice. But the past is the past, and there is naught to be gained from reliving your mistakes. I know this. I know this. But he…”

“What happened to Minfilia is not your fault, Thancred,” T’lorna said softly. “And I understand how you must feel…”

“Do you?” Thancred asked softly. “I don’t think you can understand. Yes, you understand that I love her but you don’t understand the depth or complexity of that love. You assume, like Krile and others have, that it’s just the love of a man for a woman. And, I’ll admit that, after she grew up, I admired her beauty and her strength. But there was more between us than that. Do you know how Minfilia and I met?”

“No,” T’lorna said in a whisper. “How did you meet?”

“I was a rogue on the streets whom Louisoix picked up and trained to join his Circle of Knowing. One day, there was a parade in Ul’dah. Minfilia was there with her father. A goobbue broke free of its restraints and ran amok. If I hadn’t been off flirting with other women, I could have stopped it…” he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Her father was killed. That incident changed Minfilia. I wondered if she would ever recover. But, in the years that followed, she showed herself to be more resilient than I could have guessed. When she learned about the gift of the Echo, she took responsibility for it and sought out the chance to guide others who had the Echo. She touched the hearts of all around her…” he sighed, a soft, sad smile on his lips. “And then, in the dark days following the Calamity and the loss of Louisoix, Minfilia was our guiding light. She had so many dreams… and I would give anything to make them come true.”

“I never…” T’lorna gasped.

“Did I love her the way you love your G’raha Tia? Not exactly. I appreciated her beauty and strength and, had that been her desire, I would have given her that just to make her happy. But I loved her the way a brother loves his sister, a father his daughter, and a comrade his companion-in-arms.”

“Thancred,” T’lorna sighed.

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “You dreamed of us wedding and living as man and wife. Again, had that been her desire, I would have accepted it no matter my feelings. Long have I wished to see her dreams come to being ahead of mine own… but it will never come to pass, now. Enough,” he sighed. “I have no desire to wait for the lordling to emerge from his puddle of self-pity. We have important matters to attend to in Ishgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm working out the very odd relationship between Thancred and Minfilia. They're not quite father/daughter (he's too young and she's too old) and more than just comrades or siblings-in-arms. But, romance isn't quite part of it either. He's more akin to her biggest fan and would do anything or be anything for her.
> 
> And, I'm finishing up the final Heavensward chapters this weekend. I'm planning two "bridge" chapters before the action moves into Stormblood.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!


	36. War and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we get to see the build-up to the final confrontation of Heavensward. We also get to see T'Noah being a little brat and getting called on it by his Mama and Unka Tank. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Alphinaud carrying T’Noah into the Fortemps manor. Her son was looking around with wide ruby eyes that shone with confusion. Clearly, he remembered being here before but could not place it.

“Mama!” he shouted when he saw her. He began wriggling so fiercely he almost knocked Alphinaud off-balance. She could see that he still had his “daddy doll” clutched in one of his fists. “You gone long long!”

“No, sweetheart,” she sighed as she hurried over and plucked him from the young Elezen’s arms. “It’s only been four days. Just like I promised.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said with a slight shrug. “Where at?”

“You don’t remember this place?” she asked.

“Ah, I see that the young master has returned to his home,” T’lorna heard Aymeric say as the doors to the manor closed behind him.

“Papa Temps!” Noah shrieked gleefully as he spied Count Edmont standing behind the Lord Commander. “I know you!”

“Come here, little one,” Edmont chuckled as T’lorna set the boy down and let him scramble over to his adopted grandfather. Edmont picked him up and exclaimed over how much he had grown before carrying him off to the side of the room so that Aymeric and T’lorna could speak in some peace and privacy.

“Word of the demonstration and its resolution outstripped you, T’lorna. Every man, woman, and child of Ishgard has heard the tale,” Aymeric said.

“'Tis rumored that my youngest's lack of judgment was to blame. Of course… such stories are prone to exaggeration. What exactly came to pass?” Count Edmont asked from the side of the room. T’lorna sighed and gave him the short version of events. “I see,” he sighed. “So that is the truth of it. Regardless of his intent, the result is undeniable. He has furthered the cause of these misguided few who cannot let go of the past. In an instant, the delicate peace we were poised to forge is once more beyond us.”

“To dwell so deeply on the war and the vengeance it begets, only for that too to be taken away ─ is it any wonder that they were left bereft?” Aymeric asked. “For what was this sacrifice? Have we naught to show for our suffering? I thought peace a sufficient salve, but mayhap I was mistaken. We are warriors, Lord Edmont, and ours is a nation built on centuries of warfare. Right or wrong, this is who we are, and we deny it at our peril. To hold on to the past, without being beholden to it… Aye, we must needs find a way to honor the sacrifice of our forefathers without glorying in their excesses.”

Noah began to wriggle in Edmont’s arms, reaching for the elder man’s mustaches to see if they felt different. Edmont deftly kept the boy from pawing at his face and set him down, letting him explore the room with the three adults and youth keeping eyes on him to ensure he did not get too close to the fireplace or anything he could pull down on himself and cause injury.

“A difficult path, to be sure,” the count said. “We dare not deny the scars which mar our nation's soul, lest we spur other disillusioned souls to retrace them… But, as you say, we dare not revel in past glories either, for they are tainted all. A clear, unambiguous enemy, and an undeniably righteous cause… 'Tis a bitter reflection, but lies though they were, they did long serve to unite us.”

“No truth will ever serve as well, I fear. Yet…” Aymeric mused as he watched Noah pick up a feather duster and begin waving it around wildly, in only the roughest approximation of the exercises he’d seen his mother go through with her blade, “we are not without options. At our last meeting, a proposal was tabled by the other members of the Eorzean Alliance for joint military exercises ─ to strengthen the ties between our nations and test our readiness to meet with a common threat. I had thought to delay these exercises until after the peace conference, but mayhap a grand melee would be just the thing to lift our beleaguered spirits. Better still, an occasion for the Temple Knights and the watch to take the field as allies ─ a unified Ishgardian force filled with men and women from all walks of life, which would stand against a coalition of the allied nations' finest! Hosted by Ishgard, in the shadow of the Gates of Judgement! A victory under such circumstances would serve as a reaffirmation ─ nay, a declaration to all and sundry that we are as strong and united as ever!”

“Such a victory would do much to fan the flames of patriotism, it is true. But if we should be defeated? Though… even to hold our own against the cream of three nations might be presented as a triumph… Very well. You may count on my support, for what little it is worth,” Edmont said musingly. “However, I have a request: I would have my son Emmanellain take part in the grand melee. By his deeds has he brought shame upon Ishgard, and so by his deeds I would have him bring our nation honor.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Aymeric said with a slight bow. “If that is his desire, then it shall be so. Now then, we have no time to lose. T’lorna, would you be so kind as to deliver my instructions to Lucia? I shall write to the Alliance leaders at once and begin making arrangements for the grand melee.”

“Should you chance to see my son, pray inform him of his duty,” Edmont said to T’lorna. “If he has not already returned, he will soon enough ─ making every effort to avoid me. See that he does not avoid you. And you,” Edmont laughed as he walked over to Noah and let the boy whack him with the feather duster, pretending to be gravely wounded, “will one day participate in a similar melee and bring honor to Isghard, just like your mother.”

“Yeah! Mama! I be like Mama!” Noah cheered as he continued to swing the feather duster wildly.

“Would you like to be like Mama now and come help me carry out these messages, Noah? Or do you want to stay here and play with Papa Temps?”

“I go you,” Noah said, dropping the feather duster and running over to his mother. “But I walk. I big boy now!”

“Sure thing,” his mother laughed as she reached down and took his hand in her own.

~*~*~*~

“Mama win?” Noah asked as he twisted in Ser Aymeric’s grasp.

“Yes,” the black-haired Elezen sighed. “Your mother won.”

“Yay Mama!” Noah shouted. “You win!”

“That’s right,” T’lorna laughed as she ducked beneath the Ishgardian line and plucked her son from Aymeric’s arms. “Mama won.”

“Yay!” Noah screamed as he clung to her. “You good, Mama!”

“That’s right,” T’lorna sighed as she lifted her son onto her back.

“Victory is ours! Ishgard! Ishgard! Well fought! Well fought, my friend!” Aymeric cheered as he walked up to T’lorna. “You truly are the warrior of warriors! Thank the Fury you were on our side!”

“Yeah, Mama!” Noah shouted without understanding what was going on.

“Hah hah...my lungs are burning, and I can barely stand! I didn't think I could do it...but then I did! We did! We faced the Alliance's best, and together, with one heart, with one purpose, we prevailed!”

“Unka Emmal,” Noah muttered, staring at the Elezen who was hunched over trying to catch his breath. “He good?” he asked his mother.

“He’s fine,” T’lorna whispered.

“After a thousand years of hardship, of strife and bloodshed, we are strong enough to rise to any challenge ─ be it on the battlefield or beyond. The future holds so much promise. So much joy. We need only show them the way,” Emmanellain gasped.

T’lorna watched, holding her son, as Ser Aymeric and Sultana Nanamo chatted. Then Thancred walked up to her and Noah began to struggle against her grasp, clearly wanting to go play with ‘Unka Thank.

“Well, that made for a refreshing change. Congratulations on your victory, by the way,” the Hyur said as he plucked Noah from her grasp and tickled the boy on his belly, making him shriek with laughter. “The Ishgardians certainly seem happy with themselves. I, for my part, am merely glad you did not strain anything in the process of singlehandedly winning the battle for them.”

T’lorna started to cast her healing spells on Thancred but he waved her off as General Raubahn approached.

“Thal's balls…” he muttered.

“Language!” T’lorna said with a glare that had the Hyur bowing and apologizing. Then the general of Ul’dah laughed heartily as he realized how absurd a picture it was. The Warrior of Light with her near twelve-moon son scolding him for swearing. Wiping tears of amusement from his eyes at the image, Raubahn continued, keeping his language appropriate for young men. “I had forgotten what it was like to feel so alive! Not since leaving the bloodsands have I had the privilege. Not since the Bull of Ala Mhigo hung up his swords. Back then, the outcome might have been different. But I do not begrudge you your victory. I know how far you have come, how much you have endured. Our fight only confirmed it. We shall have to do this again one day, when time allows. I shall look forward to it. Now go. Go to the Ishgardians and celebrate your victory. You have earned it. Come, Pipin. Her Grace is expecting us.”

“In all the years I have known Raubahn, I cannot recall ever seeing him look so happy in defeat,” Thancred muttered. “Well! Everything seems to be falling into place, does it not? The Ishgardians have claimed their symbolic victory, and the Eorzean Alliance has been strengthened in the process. Be proud, T’lorna. You made this happen.”

T’lorna watched as the other fighters from the Grand Melee celebrated their loss and the sign that Ishgard would, once again, join their companionship. She grinned to herself as she listened while reaching over to tickle her son. Noah had no idea what was going on around him or of the place in the history books that his mother would take. Instead, he was focused on trying to pluck his ‘Unka Thank’s’ beard and to make as much noise and get as much attention as he could.

“Spoiled little blighter,” T’lorna laughed as Thancred let the boy down on his feet and watched him run over to the Sultana. He wrapped his arms around her, screaming “baby!” while the other rulers chuckled heartily. The Sultana took it in stride and easily disentangled herself from the toddler, laughing at his confusion when he started to realize that the little person his size was not a baby like him.

“Let’s go, Noah,” she laughed as she plucked him up into her arms. “There’s going to be a big party tomorrow at Falcon’s Nest and you need to get plenty of rest so you won’t be a whining, screaming mess.”

“Play with Mama?” he asked as he grabbed handfuls of her long, blonde hair.

“Yes, you’ll get to play with Mama until you’re ready to crash.”

“Yeah!” Noah shouted. “We play!”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna watched as Count Edmont and Thancred took their turns keeping an eye on Noah while they all waited for the festivities to start. The little Miqo’te was happily basking in the attention from so many adults as well as the chance to play in fresh-fallen snow. T’lorna had made certain to dress him warmly and watched with restraint as he stumbled, fell, and rolled in the snow. Though she wanted to protect him from everything, her time with her tribe had taught her that she needed to let her son explore his world, intervening only when he was in real danger.

“He is talking remarkably well for a child of just one year,” Alphinaud muttered as he watched Noah throw handfuls of snow at Thancred.

“Miqo’te children mature slightly faster than Hyur and Elezen children,” T’lorna said. “We learn to walk earlier and talk earlier. By the time he’s three, though, the other children will have caught up to him and he’ll mature at the same rate up until adolescence. And gods, I don’t want to think about _that_ ,” she sighed.

“I know,” Alphinaud muttered softly. “It seems like only yesterday we were walking you around the room while you were giving birth to him. Just an hour ago, he couldn’t roll over on his own. And now…” the Elezen shivered.

T’lorna felt her own eyes growing a trifle watery and forced herself to take a deep breath. “After we’re finished here, I’m taking Noah to the Crystal Tower for his birthday. Thancred is planning to come along and Cid and the rest of NOAH will be there. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I fear I have previous engagements,” Alphinaud replied. “Is it his birthday already?”

“It’s the seventeenth of the Fourth Umbral Moon,” T’lorna replied. “His birthday is tomorrow.”

“Gods be good,” Alphinaud sighed. “The time really does fly by, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” T’lorna agreed.

“Look! The white dragon!” T’lorna heard one of the people in the crowd shout. She shielded her eyes with a hand and glanced towards where others were pointing. She saw Vidofnir approaching. A few minutes later, the dragon had landed on the platform near Aymeric.

“Ah, how long it hath been since our peoples met thus, children of Thordan. Even by our reckoning,” she saw warmly.

“Vidofnir, daughter of Hraesvelgr, we give thanks for your visit and bid you welcome to Falcon's Nest,” Aymeric said with a slight bow.

“Our sire bade us hearken unto the whispers of our hearts. They spoke to us of a paradise lost ─ of bonds of brotherhood which they yearn to see restored.”

“Ours too yearn for such a restoration. And they have guided us here this day, that they might yearn no longer. Brothers and sisters, ye who stand as witness, hearken to me!” Aymeric exclaimed. “Since the days of eld, when the bonds betwixt man and dragon were sundered by our hand, our peoples have known only war. Bloodshed without end, losses beyond counting ─ and still we fought. And still we fought. Some wounds do not heal. The dead cannot be returned to us. But we the living can yet choose another course. Here and now, we can lay down this burden ─ this hatred, this vengeance. Our forebears fought not so that we could die, but that we might live! So let us honor their sacrifice and spare our children this death sentence. Let us gift them a new legacy. Life!”

“Betwixt our peoples yawneth a divide deeper than the deepest abyss; wider than the widest sea,” Vidofnir said. “Generations will live and die ere this divide is bridged. Knowing this, doth thy heart yet yearn for peace, son of Thordan?”

With a flourish, Aymeric pulled down the curtain that covered up a mural painted high over the gate.

“Look now on the legacy we would leave to our children. A dream of peace inscribed in stone for generations to come,” he said with a bow.

Vidofnir seemed taken aback as she gazed at the mural of Hraesvelgr and Shiva. “Father and his beloved. As they were so long ago. Happy and at peace. The dream they shared shall be ours once more,” she promised to the cheers of the crowd.

Then, just when all seemed bright and a chance for peace filled the air, came the thunder.

“Never!” Estinien shouted from atop the tower over the scaffolding. Aymeric, Lucia, and one of the Ishgardian knights stared up at the Azure Dragoon in stunned stupefaction. They watched as Estinien prepared to jump, his harpoon at the ready. He leapt straight down, plunging the long spear into Vidofnir’s back and twisting it until the dragon fell still.

“Your bow!” Aymeric shouted to the knight next to him. The knight handed over his bow and Aymeric took aim. Blood splattered over the mural Aymeric had ordered painted. Estinien then leapt again as unholy red smoke began to surround his form.

“Estinien! No…” Alphinaud screamed in disbelief.

“Child of Dravania! Art thou grown so forgetful that thou wouldst forsake kith and kin, and consort with the spawn of Thordan? That thou wouldst _dare_ contemplate peace! Hearken unto me, all of you! The final chorus is nigh, and all will be held to account! All will bathe in the flames of retribution! Till the coming of that day, look you on your sins and despair! For none shall 'scape my wrath! None shall 'scape my revenge!” Estinien shouted.

“Seven hells!” Alphinaud growled as he watched Estinien float into the air and transform into his dragon form. “Damn you, Nidhogg…”

“Hells take that wyrm! While he lives, we'll never know peace!” one of the men in the crowd shouted.

“Aye, there'll be no end to this war till Nidhogg is dead and gone!” a woman agreed with him.

“So let's kill the bastard and be done with it! Death to Nidhogg! Death to Nidhogg! Death to Nidhogg!”

T’lorna glanced around and ran over to gather up her son. Noah was starting to cry in fear at the spectacle he had just witnessed. As the shouts of “death to Nidhogg!” filled the air, the Warrior of Light held her son close and prayed that, somehow, somewhere, Noah would know a world without war and blood.

~*~*~*~

Hours later, after the crowd had dispersed and Noah and fallen into a fretful sleep in his mother’s arms, T’lorna watched as Alphinaud approached her and sat down on the bench next to her. The young Elezen looked tired and defeated even though determination shone in his face.

“There they go, the last of the guests. Having come hither with hope in their hearts, they depart with hatred and bloodlust… Until the moment I saw him strike, I still held some small hope that what you had seen in Azys Lla was...an illusion, perhaps. But he acted without hesitation… as did Ser Aymeric. For a mercy, Vidofnir's wound was not mortal, or so Lucia tells me. The dragon was spirited away to Anyx Trine to receive care from her brethren. We can but hope her recovery is swift. But such was surely Nidhogg's intent. To deliver a proclamation not only to the children of Thordan, but to his kindred. ‘War is coming, and ye who do not stand with us stand apart.’ She was an example ─ a message to her brood. Another instrument of his vengeance… like Estinien.”

~*~*~*~

“Mama?” Noah asked as he patted her cheeks, waking her up from her brief nap. T’lorna blinked and forced herself to sit up straight in the overstuffed chair. “Mama,” Noah repeated insistently.

“Yes?” she replied as she scrubbed a hand over her eyes, stretched, and yawned. She hadn’t been this exhausted since… since just after the Crystal Tower. But seeing Estinien again, seeing his rage… and then the attack on Vidofnir… and the trip to Aynx Trine to check on her… all while holding her son and trying to calm him down… all these things had drained her to the point of when, upon returning to the Fortemps Manor, she’d sat in front of the fire for a minute, sleep had stolen upon her like a mugger in an alleyway.

“Mama, why he hurt dagon?”

“Because he thought that the dragon was doing something bad by being friends with us,” T’lorna explained carefully.

“Why bad?”

“Well, a long, long, long time ago, some bad people hurt and killed a lot of dragons. And dragons never die so the dragons today remember that time.”

“But he a man!”

“Yes, but he’s also a dragon,” she sighed, closing her eyes and remembering how horrible it had been to watch Estinien be so overtaken by Nidhogg that his very essence was lost.

“So, he mad at you? He want hurt you?”

“Not exactly,” T’lorna said. “He won’t hurt me. I promise you that. But I might have to go find him and stop him from hurting others. Is that okay with you, Noah?”

“You have to go stop bad man? Why you?”

“Because there’s no one else who can.”

“Oh. You special mama?”

“Yeah,” T’lorna sighed. One day, she would have to explain about the Echo, the Mothercrystal, and being the Warrior of Light to her son. One day, she would have to help him to understand that, as much as they both might want it, he could never have her all to himself like a normal boy could.

“You be back when?”

“Not sure. But Unca Atel will keep you company and you’ll have Papa Temps to play with, too. And Aunt Tata will come by to check on you. Miss Krile will make certain you know where I am and how I’m doing. And, I’ll try to come back to see you as often as I can. That is, if you want to stay here. You can go back to gampa if you want.”

“I stay you.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t come with me. I wish you could.”

“Why not? I big boy now. I fight too!”

“Not big enough,” Thancred said as he walked into T’lorna’s rooms. “Forgive me,” he added, bowing slightly to the woman. “I heard about what happened at Falcon’s Nest. Alphinaud and the others met in the tavern to discuss it and we believe we have a plan that will work to free Estinien from Nidhogg’s control.”

“Why I not big nuff?” Noah demanded angrily, his face screwing up with indignation. “I big boy!”

“Push me over and I’ll let you join the fight,” Thancred said reasonably, reaching out and plucking the boy from his mother’s arms. He set Noah on the floor and then stood as the boy pushed against his legs, kicked at him, slapped at him, and did everything he could to knock his Unka Tank down. After ten minutes of solid efforts with Thancred offering advice, Noah sat down on the floor, panting and crying.

“You’re not big enough to fight monsters yet, Noah,” Thancred said gently as he squatted down to look Noah in the eyes. “One day, you will be. One day, you’ll be big enough to knock me over, strong enough to pin me to the floor, and smart enough to use any weapon you can lay hands on. But you’re not there yet.”

“When?”

“When you’re sixteen,” T’lorna said swiftly. “When you have become a man and gone through the Rite of the Hunt.”

“Okay,” Noah muttered sullenly, wiping his grubby face with his arms. “Daddy let me fight,” he added.

“No, he would not,” T’lorna said swiftly, her voice almost harsh. “He would not let you fight either. Don’t you dare try to pull that stunt with me, T’Noah Tia.”

Noah’s face crumbled and he began to wail in earnest. His mother made no move to comfort him, counting slowly to thirty before she sat down next to him and ran her fingers through his hair. He began sniffling and stared at her sadly. “I sorry.”

“I know you are,” she sighed. “Now, let’s go get you cleaned up and tucked into bed. Tomorrow is your birthday and we’re going to go see your daddy’s tower.”

“Daddy tower?” he asked, his eyes brightening.

“Yes.”

“Daddy come out?”

“No, he has not. And he probably won’t. But, you can talk to him there and I’m sure he’ll hear you in his dreams.”

“Okay,” Noah sighed gustily, worn out by trying to push his Uncle Thancred over and then his own tantrum. T’lorna scooped him up in her arms, carried him over to the small tub and quickly filled it with warm water. She stripped his clothes off, bathed him, brushed his teeth and combed out his hair before dressing him in his pajamas and then brushing his tail and ears as he drifted off to sleep. That done, she pulled the screen aside to give him some privacy while she and Thancred spoke.

“Forgive me for barging into your rooms earlier,” Thancred said. “The servants told me you were home.”

“It’s all right,” she shrugged. “I’m glad you did it. I’m not certain I would have thought of the ‘if you can push me over’ trick to convince Noah that he is _not_ joining me on the battlefield.”

“I had to do the same thing with Minfilia when she was younger. She was determined to learn to fight and to help me but she was so young and soft. I told her that when she could best me in a match, she would be ready. She was seventeen before she managed that feat.”

“So, the others think there is a way to save Estinien?” T’lorna asked, changing the subject.

“Yes. They believe that if you can wrest the eyes of Nidhogg out of his armor, then Nidhogg will not have a vessel to use to channel his rage. Apparently, it’s having _both_ eyes together with one person that causes the problem.”

“They looked as if they were welded to his armor,” T’lorna muttered. “And, that’s if we can find him and surprise him in Estinien-form.”

“Well, if you can defeat him in dragon form, he’ll be weak enough to be unable to maintain the transformation,” Thancred offered. “At least, that’s the working theory. We’ll be headed to Aynx Trine soon to speak with Vidofnir and get her opinion on matters.”

“Set it for the day after tomorrow,” T’lorna said firmly. “I want to be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap -- the MSQ from patch 5.3 was better than I had imagined. I laughed. I cried. I screamed. I laughed some more. I can't wait until I get to that point in the story.
> 
> Anyhow, let me know what you think! I'll be wrapping Heavensward up in the next chapter. Then there will be a few bridge chapters before we move into Stormblood. I've decided to go on and grit my teeth and not skip as much as I had planned. Stormblood will give T'lorna a chance to take T'Noah to meet the G tribe and his paternal family. I'm also going to be playing around a bit with his whole "bassador trodinarie and plenpotentarie to dagons" thing. I've been writing a few spin-off chapters (some of which will be posted in this fic) called "The Adventures of Noah and Drake." I may start a new fic after this one is finished focusing on that. It'll be adorable. ;)


	37. Quelling the Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we wrap up Heavensward proper...
> 
> My apologies for this being a little on the late side. I've been working double shifts and just found the time to take a break and post this. :) I still love my job, though. Trust me -- ANYTHING beats teaching!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Relieved that the scouts had not seen any sign of Estinien, T’lorna decided to risk taking Noah with her when she and the others traveled to speak with Vidofnir at Aynx Trine. The boy was delighted to be traveling with his mother again and enjoyed riding on chocobo-back through the Dravinian territories. As they approached the tower, Noah grew quiet. He seemed to remember the last time he was here with his mother and how worried everyone had been. He clutched T’lorna around the neck and shivered slightly in remembered fear.

“It’s okay, Noah,” T’lorna whispered. “You’re okay. This is where the dragons are. They’re nice. You remember them?”

“Dagons here?” he asked as he cautiously lifted his face from her neck.

“Yes.”

“I like dagons. Dey fly. I want fly.”

“Maybe one day,” T’lorna said as she walked up the ramp to the second level where Vidofnir rested.

“Ah, 'tis the warrior of warriors and her companions. What bringeth you to mine abode?” Vidofnir asked softly. “And your son. Greetings, son of T’lorna. You are always welcome here.”

“Hey Dagon,” Noah said, waving at Vidofnir.

“My name is Vidofnir.”

“Vider,” Noah said, giving the name the best he could.

“Close enough,” Vidofnir said with a smile. “And your name?”

“I T’Noah Tia.”

“Then be welcome here, T’Noah Tia, son of T’lorna.”

“Okay.” He began to wriggle and kick, indicating that he wanted to be set down to explore.

“Stay in this room,” his mother warned him.

“Yes, Mama,” he promised glibly as he began to explore the chamber.

“Pray forgive us for disturbing your recuperation, Vidofnir. I hope your wound does not pain you overmuch,” Alphinaud said politely as he and Ser Aymeric walked into the room.

“Didst thou imagine me close to death? The thrust was deep, but not mortal. I will heal in time,” Vidofnir said with a hint of laughter.

“Full glad am I to hear it,” Ser Aymeric replied. “You were the guest of honor at our conference, and we failed in our duty of protection. On behalf of Ishgard, I apologize unreservedly.”

“I am a dragon full-grown, and thou thought to protect me, mortal? I was tempered by the fires of battle ere thy great grandsire learned to crawl. Thy words do remind me of a knight whom I called friend some thousand years past. He swore to defend me from harm and hardship…”

“Would that we could return to that era of peace, when man and dragon knew such comradeship,” Aymeric sighed.

“Would that our every effort to do so were not undone by ancient rancor,” Alphinaud muttered.

“For a truth, there can be no peace while Nidhogg's shade yet lingereth.”

“That much is plain ─ yet we lack the strength to banish him. Thus do we make for Sohm Al, to beseech the aid of your sire once more,” Alphinaud explained.

“Folly,” Vidofnir scoffed. “Thou know'st as well as I how he will answer.”

“Hraesvelgr's heart remains unchanged, then,” Aymeric sighed. “A pity. But if it is folly to hope, I am content to die a fool.”

“As hath ever been the way with thy kind. Go then, but be warned: the shade's presence hath driven its minions to frenzy,” Vidofnir cautioned them.

“Thank you, Vidofnir. We shall disturb your rest no longer,” Alphinaud said with a bow. He and Aymeric turned to leave the chamber but T’lorna glanced around, looking for her son. She was stunned to see Noah clambering up Vidofnir’s back, deftly using the scales and spikes to pull himself up until, at last, he stood unsteadily atop the great wyrm.

“You hurt bad?” he asked as he studied the wound.

“It is not a grave wound,” Vidofnir said. She must have sensed the young one’s struggle to understand her words for she spoke again. “It’s not bad.”

“I make better,” he said stoutly as he walked over to the wound and kissed it just as his mother had kissed his numerous scrapes, bumps, and cuts. “There. Kiss kiss. All better!”

“Thank you, T’Noah,” Vidofnir said gravely but with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Now I know it will heal well.”

“Yeah. We fly now you better?”

“Not right now,” Vidofnir replied. “But soon. I promise. Now go. Your mother needs to leave and I need to take a nap.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said as he began to climb down from the dragon’s back. “I come see you again, Vider. Night night!”

“Yes, T’Noah. Night night indeed.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna felt amusement at the way her son had charmed Vidofnir. As they made their way through the mountains towards Moghome, she listened to him chatter on and on about how he and Vider were friends and how they would fly and he would learn to fight and protect all the ‘dagons’ against bad people.

“I vow,” Aymeric chuckled, “were he but a little older, I would name your son Ambassador Extraordinairy and Plenipotentiary to the Dragons.”

“What dat?” Noah asked curiously.

“Now you’ve done it,” Alphinaud laughed.

“What dat?” Noah asked again, more insistently.

“It, uh,” Aymeric hedged. He wasn’t used to interacting with a child so young. “It means that you are the dragon’s best friend.”

“Oh. Okay. I dat den.”

“Yes, you are,” T’lorna laughed. “Can you even say that?”

“I bassador trodinarie and plenpotentarie to dagons!”

“Exactly,” T’lorna laughed.

As they reached the pinnacle leading to the home of the Moogles, Ser Aymeric reined in his mount and stared, open-jawed, in wonder.

“The lord commander seems lost for words,” Alphinaud said with a smile. “Nor can I blame him. I recall being similarly awestruck when I first beheld this vista.”

“I had heard tales of the world above the clouds, but never did I dream…” Aymeric gasped in awe. “One's mind paints a pale picture of its majesty.”

“Few live to see such wonders. I am reminded of my first visit to this peak, when Estinien and Ysayle yet walked at our side…” Alphinaud sighed.

“Kupopo? Is that you, T’lorna?” one of the moogles of Moghome asked as he fluttered up to her, much to her son’s delight.

“What dat? Who dat, Mama?”

“That is…” T’lorna studied the moogle closely.

“Ah, if it isn't Mog… Mog… uh…” Alphinaud stammered.

“Don't tell me you've forgotten my name, kupo!? After all we've been through together!” the moogle sighed sadly as he studied Alphinaud before turning his attention back to T’lorna. “But at least you remember me! You… you do remember me, don't you, T’lorna?”

“Yes, Moghan,” T’lorna said warmly. “I do.”

“Phew! You seemed a bit hesitant for a moment there! But I'm sure you were just fondly recalling the time we camped near Zenith, right, kupo?”

“Indeed,” T’lorna grinned. “Moghan, this is my son T’Noah Tia. Noah, this is my friend Moghan. He’s a moogle.”

“Oh, a little one of your kind!” Moghan cheered, whirling in the air and dancing. “He’s adorable but he looks nothing like you.”

Noah reached out, his eyes wide with surprise, and tried to grab at the fluffy creature.

“He takes after his father,” T’lorna explained quickly.

“But putting our shared history to one side, what brings you and your friends to Moghome, kupo?”

“We’ve come to seek an audience with Hraesvelgr,” T’lorna replied.

“Ah, another audience with old Hraesvelgr… Well, I hope you've brought the horn, kupo! With the winds as gentle as they are, a good loud toot should reach the great wyrm's ears easily enough!”

“That is good to hear, Moghan ─ thank you. We had best press on to Zenith, while the winds are in our favor,” Alphinaud muttered.

“Moghan, may I ask you a favor?”

“A favor, T’lorna? Why certainly!”

“I think that Noah would like to get to know you and your people better. Could you keep him here with you while we travel to the Zenith? Noah, do you want to stay here and play with the moogles?”

“Yeah!” Noah squealed. “I stay! Moogs!”

“We will take good care of him, Warrior of Light,” Moghan promised. Then, he swirled in the air and Noah began to float out of his mother’s arms, following in the moogle’s wake with a look of pure rapture on his tiny face.

“Let’s go,” T’lorna said as soon as Noah was out of sight. “The sooner we are done there, the sooner we can get back.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna panted, struggling to catch her breath following the trial that Hraesvelgr had set for her, Aymeric, Alphinaud, and even poor Moghan. She had suspected that Hraesvelgr would not be pleased at the mortals coming to him to ask for his aid against his brood-brother again but she had not imagined that she would be forced to face off against the great wyrm himself in a fight to prove herself worthy of his aid.

“Oh… ohhh… Oh, my poor ribs…” Alphinaud groaned as he rubbed his sides and chest. “Hraesvelgr saw fit to pair me with Vidofnir, but her ferocity was such that I began to wonder if I hadn't simply imagined her injury. ...Yet my trial pales into insignificance next to yours. How fared you in your duel with Hraesvelgr?”

“It was fine,” T’lorna sighed. “A bit wearing but fine.”

“I take from this that your battle was rather more involved than my own,” Aymeric said as he staggered up to her and Alphinaud. “Vedrfolnir seemed largely concerned with how long he could keep me rolling in the dust. Between dodging snapping fangs and slashing claws, I scarce had time to aim a blow. Had he truly meant to harm me, of course, I would not be standing here now. Plainly, his intent was to teach. His onslaught forced me to recall my training ─ about the speed of the dragon, his balance, his blind spots… It was, in short, a very thorough lesson.”

T'lorna turned as a few bright spots of light let her know that others were arriving. When she saw them, her stomach clenched in fear.

“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow… kupo,” Moglin gasped. “T’lorna, let me begin by congratulating you on the completion of your trial. For one with a name more befitting a jester, you fight with the savagery of a rabid demon. Do you see how my wings are kinked? Even my pom aches! After this drubbing, I fear my loyal subjects will have to bear the load of my personal chores for quite some time, kupo. Possibly indefinitely.”

Then Moghan, the moogle to whom she had entrusted her son, spoke. “What!? When I told you about T’lorna’s trial, I didn't mean for the rest of us to suffer…”

“That's triple shifts for you, Moghan,” Moglin gasped.

“Triple!? But that's not fair!!!” Moghan protested. “There's no justice, kupo,” he whined. “None at all!”

“Our negotiations proved rather more strenuous than I had anticipated, but the results seem well worth the effort,” Alphinaud muttered before T’lorna could begin berating the moogles.

“The battle was indeed hard-won. Thank you, my friends ─ I would never have earned Hraesvelgr's cooperation had you not seen fit to grant me yours. 'Twas your stalwart heroism that moved the heart of the great wyrm at the last. Any gratitude I can offer is but poor reward for your continued service to Ishgard.”

“'Twould seem our final reckoning with the dread wyrm is at hand. I only wish we had some inkling as to when he means to strike. Oh gods!” Alphinaud sighed.

Then Midgardsormr spoke, his voice reverberating with power. “The cry heraldeth his coming. Nidhogg's shade hath taken wing.”

“It has begun. We must away to Ishgard!” Aymeric shouted, his concern calling T’lorna to attention.

“Watch my son!” she shouted to the moogles as she hurried after Aymeric. “Keep him safe for me!”

“Kupo!” Moghan replied. “We will!”

With that, T’lorna followed the Elezen as he journeyed through the aether to rendezvous with Estinien.

~*~*~*~

Even knowing that her son was waiting for her at Moghome, T’lorna ignored his tugs and instead let her very Self flow through the aether to Ishgard.

As soon as he had regained a sense of himself, Ser Aymeric shouted a warning. “Ishgard will not last long against Nidhogg and his Horde.”

“I pray we are not too late…” Alphinaud muttered as he stumbled out of the aether.

“Know you, then, what this roar portendeth?” Hraesvelgr asked.

Artoirel’s voice called out over the din of panicked citizens. “Reinforcements! By the Fury… That one is the size of Nidhogg! You are late, Warrior of Light!”

T’lorna shuddered as she heard Nidhogg’s voice echo over the din. “Wherefore standest thou with these vermin, Brother?”

Hraesvelgr shook his head and replied, “Abandon this war, shade. The suffering thou sowest serveth no end. The traitors' progeny have learned of their forefathers' betrayal, and seek now to make amends with our kind. Never shall our grief be assuaged nor our loss forgotten, but reconciliation may yet halt the spread of this plague of enmity. Forsake thy vengeance and be at peace.”

Nidhogg growled angrily, his rage making the air rumble as if a thunderstorm were break overhead, “What soft-headed ramblings are these? Thy dalliance with that vile maid hath robbed thee of thy wits! Mayhap her cloying perfume hath made thee forget the stench of our brood-sister's lifeblood!”

“Thou darest speak thus of my beloved!?” Hraesvelgr roared.

“Ah! So the flames of rage may yet be kindled! I feared thy heart's fire had long since gone out. But waste not thy fury on words, Brother ─ thou shalt have need of it for the battle!”

“Guh!”

“Thou art weak, Hraesvelgr ─ a slithering wyrm who fawneth on the vermin who should rightly be his prey. For a thousand years have I fought without cease ─ and thou didst think to prevail against me!”

“Glory not in thy victory, shade. The battle… is not yet won. My power ─ and my hope ─ have I entrusted to another…”

“Thine eye! What hast thou done!?” Nidhogg shouted in disbelief. “Fool! Thou wouldst trust a mortal with thy strength!? I know thee… 'Twas thou who didst intrude upon my lair and best the half of me. But now I am whole, and naught in creation shall deny me my vengeance!”

And then the battle was joined in earnest. Nidhogg fought fiercely as T’lorna, Aymeric, Alphinaud, and many others worked to subdue the beast, praying that they would not have to kill him and could, instead, force him to revert to Elezen form so that they could remove the Eyes and free Estinien from the dragon’s rage.

T'lorna ducked and wove, using her sword and shield to keep the dragon’s attention fixed on her while the others flanked the beast, hacking away at its legs, its wings. Dragoons leapt high in the air, landing on the dragon’s back with their harpoons and stabbing through the thick, scaly hide. Nidhogg roared in anger and shook them off, wheeling and snapping at them so quickly that T’lorna could barely keep ahead of him.

“Wriggling maggots!” he screamed. “I shall grind you to paste in my jaws!”

He summoned other dragons, his children, ordering them to attack. T’lorna hurried over to one while Artoriel took a second and another knight launched himself at the third. Within moments, the lesser dragons were dead and Nidhogg was enraged as the loss of his children.

“Look upon the fool who dared embrace my power!” he roared. “Witness the darkened wings that beat about his shriveled soul! Thy final verse is sung!”

Estinien’s form floated over all the fighters battling him. He struck with an aethereal spear, power – dark power – tainting all of them. T’lorna reached within herself and drew forth the healing power and shields that paladins and white mages shared and cast it over the group, protecting them as best she could. Nidhogg shifted shape again, transforming into half-Estinien, half-dragon, his wings beating in the air.

“Thou hast survived my song…” he muttered angrily. “Curse thee and thine eye, Hraesvelgr!”

The battle continued. Arrows rained down on Nidhogg in his new form. T’lorna leapt, whirled, and struck with sword and shield, cutting through Nidhogg’s defenses and striking many blows against him.

“Brood-brother,” he screamed, “thou hast doomed me… But if I must meet mine end, then all shall burn upon my pyre!”

With that, he transformed again, this time taking on the full form of a dragon with red, glowing scales. His breath was unleashed on the mortals and only luck and the blessing of the Light itself kept them from withering to ash at the onslaught.

“He’s weakening!” T’lorna shouted to the others. “Press hard, _now_!”

The fighters threw everything they had into a last round and, within moments, Nidhogg roared in rage.

“Slain twice by mortal hands…” the dragon screamed to the heavens and then writhed in agony as his form collapsed, transforming back into the mortal-bodied Estinien. The Elezen knelt on the ground, using one hand to hold himself from falling on his face as he gasped for air. Aether flowed around him as he groaned in agony.

“Estinien!” Alphinaud shouted as he rushed up to the fallen dragoon. He watched as the enemy who had once been a friend struggled to gather his strength.

“Is this…” he gasped “to be… mine end? Nay… I will not allow it…” he groaned as he forced himself to his feet. “I am of the first brood… I am vengeance incarnate… I am Nidhogg! Thou shalt die by my hand!” With that, he reared back, preparing to hurl his harpoon at Alphinaud and T’lorna, to impale them both with it.

But his arm refused to move. T’lorna watched with hope in her eyes as the Elezen struggled against himself, his body seemingly no longer his to command.

“This is not your hand, wyrm!” Estinien’s voice, free of Nidhogg’s control, shouted. The spear clattered to the ground and Estinien’s hand shook wildly, quivering as two minds tried to gain control over it. Then that hand flew towards Estinien’s throat and seized hold of it, choking him.

“Thou… wilt… obey!” Nidhogg roared.

“I would ask one last favor of you, Warrior of Light…” Estinien pleaded as he fought free of Nidhogg’s control. “Finish me ─ now, while I have the beast subdued!”

T’lorna nodded to Alphinaud as she quickly sheathed her sword and threw down her shield. Together, they ran at the man, each grabbing hold of one of the Eyes welded into his armor. They pulled, tugging with all their strength, desperate to prize the eyes free and liberate their friend from Nidhogg’s control and rage.

“You waste your time. Kill me! It is the only way! Ending Nidhogg… will be my final duty…” Estinien groaned.

“No! You can't die like this! I won't let you!” Alphinaud screamed. “Augh! Aaaaaahhh! Aaaaaahhh!” he cried in pain as the Eye’s power washed over him in a desperate attempt to remain where it was.

But then, Ysayle appeared. T’lorna watched in awe as the woman’s soul added strength to Alphinaud’s grasp and gave the young man peace enough to pry the Eye free. She glanced over to see Haurchefant helping her to pull the other Eye free.

“Haurchefant,” she whispered as she continued to tug. “Thank you…”

With the aid of those they had lost, those they had not been able to save, the Eyes of Nidhogg were pulled from Estinien’s armor in a flash of blinding and healing light.

“Undone by mortal will. Whither now?” Nidhogg’s ghost sighed as it vanished into the aethereal sea. For a moment, it seemed as if Haurchefant and Ysayle stood with them before they, too, vanished. T’lorna stared at the Eye in her hand and then glanced over to see Alphinaud, flat on his back on the ground, the other Eye grasped between both of his hands. Between them, Estinien lay on the ground, unconscious.

“The eyes! Cast them into the abyss!” Aymeric shouted, bringing both of them back to reality. Without question, without a second thought, T’lorna began to race towards the edge of the bridge. Alphinaud was just a step behind her. Once they were close, both hurled the Eyes out over the edge, letting them fall down, down, down deep into the gorge that separated Ishgard from Coerthas.

“He lives. Ah, Estinien, my ill-fated friend…” Aymeric sighed as he lifted Estinien’s unconscious form into his arms. “Lucia! Summon the healers! I want them ready to receive him!”

“At once, Lord Commander!”

“Allow me to do this much, at least…” Aymeric whispered. With that, he rose to his feet, hefting Estinien in his arms. As he started to walk off, heading back towards Ishgard where Estinien could receive treatment, a shadow covered the bridge as Hraesvelgr landed and nodded to the Lord Commander.

“The Horde have sensed the fall of their master, and scattered to the winds,” the great wyrm said.

“You have my gratitude, Hraesvelgr. Your deeds this day have saved a great many lives,” Aymeric replied graciously.

“Then our alliance hath served its purpose.” Then Hraesvelgr turned to regard T’lorna calmly. “Thou didst wield the power I granted thee well. ‘Twas thine own skill and not mine eye which earned thee victory. I wish thy companion a swift recovery. Fare you well, children of man,” Hraesvelgr said before lifting off to return to his own abode. Aymeric then proceeded to carry Estinien into Ishgard, leaving T’lorna and Alphinaud alone on the bridge.

“The battle is won,” Alphinaud said softly. “We can do no more for Estinien now than bear him home and wish him well, even as Hraesvelgr did. The rest we must trust to the hands of the healers and the grace of the gods.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna was grateful that Vidofnir had answered her call and carried her to Moghome to retrieve her son. Noah was not aware of anything that had happened but was quick to pick up on his mother’s exhausted tension and the smell of sweat and blood that permeated her armor.

“Mama okay?” he asked as she secured him in the harness that would hold him to her chest while Vidofnir flew them back to Ishgard.

“I’m fine, Noah,” T’lorna said tiredly.

“Where go?”

“Papa Temps.”

“Okay.” There was a long pause as Noah squealed and enjoyed the sensation of flying. He pulled his arms free of the constraints and tried to grab at the air, fascinated at the sensation of riding on a dragon’s back. “Why go way?” he asked her, shouting to be heard over the rush of the wind.

“I had to, baby,” she sighed. “Nidhogg was going to hurt people and Mama and Unka Alphie had to stop him.”

“You stop him?”

“Yes.”

“Mama did good.”

“Yes,” T’lorna sighed. “Yes, she did. But now, your Uncle Estinien is ill and we need to go check on him.”

“Unka Tinen?”

“You don’t remember him,” T’lorna replied. “But he was hurt during the fight. We’ll go visit him and you can tell him _all_ about your time with the Moogles. He’ll like that,” she grinned as she thought about the white-haired Elezen forced to sit and listen to her son prattle on and on about the Moogles and anything else that struck his fancy.

Estinien had not been there when she gave birth. Nor had he been around much after Noah’s birth. He had kept himself very much to himself. But he had known about her pregnancy and about her motherhood. Siccing her son on him would be a fitting way to keep the dragoon chained to his bed for a few days – possibly weeks.

In relative silence, speaking only to answer her son’s questions, T’lorna soon arrived in Ishgard. She thanked Vidofnir for flying her about and then, with Noah in her arms, hurried to the Lord Commander’s seat to seek out work of Estinien.

“T’lorna, my friend,” Aymeric said as he rose from his desk to greet her. “What can I do for the savior of Ishgard?”

“I’m looking for Alphinaud,” she explained as she hefted Noah and resettled him on her hip. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“He came to relieve me of my vigil a short while ago. When he begged to sit at Estinien's side, I could not well refuse him.

Though he would sooner faint than admit it, the boy must be exhausted by Hraesvelgr's trial and all that followed…” Aymeric mused with a slight smile, “Estinien is blessed to have such devoted comrades.”

“Alphinaud has long respected Estinien,” T’lorna muttered.

“My own friendship with Estinien began some ten years past, shortly after we joined the Temple Knights…” Aymeric mused, his eyes growing distant as he remembered. “I learned his name soon enough, but Estinien barely registered my existence. I was less a fellow recruit, and more a shadow which occasionally darkened his path,” T’lorna sat quietly, letting the Lord Commander recount his story. “And so I might have remained, had fate not seen fit to intervene. While out on patrol, our company was set upon by a dragon, and we were the only two to survive. The experience forged a bond between us, as such life-threatening situations are wont to do. Despite our friendship, he remained an intense and solitary youth, wholly obsessed with claiming vengeance against Nidhogg. Revenge was ever at the forefront of his mind ─ revenge for the death of his parents, and revenge for his younger brother. I would venture that in Alphinaud he sees something of his lost sibling,” Aymeric sighed. “And in the ungentle chidings of Estinien, Alphinaud has found the elder brother he never had. Truth be told, Estinien's tactless observations have saved me from disaster more than once, and I can well understand Alphinaud's affection for him. He is a friend for whom I would gladly…”

One of the Temple Heralds burst into the room, panting, his face tight with strain. “Lord Commander! Your presence is required in the infirmary!”

“Is he…” Aymeric gasped, “Tell them I am on my way!”

“Captain Whitecape ordered me to fetch you with all haste. I know no more than that,” the herald explained.

“Quickly, T’lorna! We must go to him!” Aymeric exclaimed as he rose from his seat, the Warrior of Light swift on his heels. Following the herald, they soon reached the infirmary and the room where Estinien lay with Alphinaud seated in a chair, attending him. Estinien’s arms and legs were beginning to move, a sign that he was finally regaining consciousness.

“Oh…” Alphinaud sighed as he grasped the unconscious dragoon’s hand. “Estinien…”

Then the white-haired man began to grimace and turn his head. He opened his eyes, glaring weakly at the young man. “Cease your mewling, boy. It grates my ears.”

“Forgive me. When I saw you awaken, I could not ─ It was such a relief! We feared you might never wake up!”

“Now, now, Estinien,” Aymeric said teasingly. “If Master Alphinaud thought any less of you, you would still be Nidhogg's plaything ─ or dead.”

“Aye, aye. 'Twas but a jest,” Estinien muttered. He turned to regard T’lorna standing in the doorway and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the boy in her arms. “I thank you, Alphinaud… and you too, Warrior of Light. Quite how you managed to persuade Hraesvelgr to aid in his brood-brother's downfall, I cannot imagine ─ but full glad am I that you did. Yet again, you have achieved the impossible. Boy,” he added, staring directly in Noah’s eyes, “you have a fine example to follow in your mother. See that you mind her direction and do as she bids.”

“Kay…” Noah said in confusion.

“I for my part owe you an apology,” Aymeric said. “When last we met, I did willingly loose an arrow at your heart. Can you forgive me?”

“There is naught to forgive, Aymeric. You but acted in defense of Ishgard, as is your duty,” the dragoon muttered. “Were you any less single-minded about it, I would not follow you into battle ─ nor trust you at my back. Besides, I had come to the selfsame conclusion ─ that I would have to perish for Nidhogg to be stopped. So let us dispense with the hand-wringing. I have heard enough mewling for one day.”

“Oh!” Alphinaud gasped, flushing in embarrassment.

“The tendrils of Nidhogg's foul presence bound up every fiber of my being, usurping my senses, but I yet retained some trace of awareness,” Estinien continued to explain. “The wyrm's mind was as a vast and tumultuous sea. Endlessly its black waters churned, his grief and despair at Ratatoskr's murder never calming, never receding. And driven by this surging current came wave upon wave of unrelenting rancor. It was the very image of my own heart. There I saw the dark reflection of the hatred I felt after Nidhogg slew my family, when no path remained save vengeance against dragonkind. Neither one of us had a choice. But I was blessed with something Nidhogg was not ─ comrades and teachers to console and admonish me. Had I not had them to gainsay my obsession, it would surely have consumed me, as Nidhogg's did him, and we would have been in all respects alike. Though his shade is banished, his spirit scattered upon the Sea of Clouds, I feel no joy at his passing. Where once I craved vengeance, I now crave rest. Lord Commander, my hunt is at an end. I would lay down the mantle of Azure Dragoon.” With a small smile, Estinien closed his eyes and lapsed into sleep.

“My friend…” Aymeric whispered.

“He has tired himself with too many words,” the healer said softly but firmly. “I doubt not that he will make a full recovery, but he must be allowed some few days of quiet.”

“I too must see my path to its end. Sleep well, my friend,” Aymeric said softly as he turned and walked out of the room. The Lord Commander had much to do and only a few days in which to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 5.3 has me making some revisions to my outline. Still, it'll be awesome once I get there!


	38. Mothers and Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we have a bit of emotion and some set up for things that will be playing out in the future. I hope you have some tissue handy. You might need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna watched with a soft smile on her lips and tears glistening in her eyes as her son sat in front of the massive doors of the Crystal Tower, his little hands pressed against them and his voice babbling out everything he could think to tell his daddy about what had happened lately.

“I made a new fend yesterday,” Noah was telling his father. “He’s a dagon…”

T’lorna shook her head, remembering the events of the previous day. With the Dragonsong War at an end and Estinien up and about, T’lorna had decided to postpone taking her son to the Crystal Tower a few days longer, giving herself a chance to rest from the battle and to gather her wits about her. She had not been back to the Tower since her husband had locked himself away in it. She had come no closer than the Eight Sentinels. The thought of walking through the empty halls of the Labyrinth of the Ancients and up to the foot of the Tower itself filled her with such sorrow and pain that she knew she would need to mentally steel herself for the trip.

So, giving in to her son’s pleas, she had taken him to visit the dragons. The trip to Aynx Trine had been uneventful in and of itself and Vidofnir had been pleased to see them – even if there had been a sense of nervous anticipation in the air.

“Have we come at a bad time?” T’lorna asked bluntly once the introductions had been completed. Noah was wandering around the room and was staring at the dragon’s nest curiously. T’lorna kept one eye on her son to ensure that he didn’t try to climb into the nest and disturb the eggs laying in there.

“Mama,” Noah called out, bit of concern in his voice. “This rock shake.”

“That’s not a rock, Noah,” T’lorna said as she hurried over to him.

“My brood will be hatching soon,” Vidofnir said softly in answer to T’lorna’s earlier question. “The first brood hatched in this age of renewed friendship between our peoples. And, it seems that you and your son have arrived in time for the first hatchling to emerge,” she added as she moved closer to her nest.

“Why it do dat?” Noah asked as he pointed at the egg that was shaking and beginning to crack open. “It okay?”

“That’s a baby dragon being born,” T’lorna explained.

“A baby dagon?” Noah gasped, his face lighting up. “I be fends wit him!”

“Noah, be careful,” T’lorna said as she watched her son clamber into the nest.

“Young one,” Vidofnir said, her voice ringing in Noah’s mind and making the toddler pause and gaze at the dragon in awe. “You must let the little one emerge from the egg on his own. Otherwise, he will not grow up to be a strong dragon. You may sit and watch but may not help.”

“Okay, Vidir,” Noah said. “I pwomise. I be good. Me and little dagon be fends?”

“Er… yes,” Vidofnir said, her voice filled with amusement, “you shall be the best of friends.”

Noah continued to sit in the nest, his body wriggling with excitement with each new crack that formed in the egg. He began babbling to the hatching egg about the fun they would have and how they would fly all over the world and go to his daddy’s tower and be friends with everyone as the baby dragon slowly worked its way free of the egg. When the little dragon finally staggered free of the confines of the egg, Noah clapped his hands excitedly. The little dragon looked over at the Miqo’te boy and then, taking a posture of submission – the posture he would take with any elder member of his brood – he made his way over to sniff and get to know his brood-brother.

“Hey little dagon,” Noah said softly as he lifted a hand and tried to pet the dragon. His motion must have startled the baby dragon because it reared back on its rear legs and lashed out with his foreclaws. Noah screamed in fright and pain and T’lorna ran over to the nest as Vidofnir sent mental orders to her baby which made the little dragon fall on its stomach.

“It okay, Mama. He not mean it,” Noah sobbed. “He baby. He not mean it. No be mad.”

“Stop and let me see,” T’lorna said harshly as she batted her son’s hands away from his face. “I’m not mad, Noah, but I need to see this ouchie.”

“He not mean it, Mama,” Noah whimpered as his mother studied the long, deep gash that now ran down the left side of his face from the corner of his eye to the edge of his lips.

“Warrior of Light, you have my apologies…” Vidofnir started to say.

“Boys will be boys,” T’lorna said absently in response as she lifted her son into her arms and hurried over to where she had left her pack. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“The little one understands that he reacted incorrectly and has hurt his soft-bodied brood-brother,” Vidofnir promised.

“I shouldn’t have let Noah get so close until my son understood how to approach your child with caution and respect,” T’lorna replied, her tone still somewhat abstracted as she settled Noah in her lap and plucked a clean cloth from her bag. She pressed it against the wound while Noah continued to whimper that the little dragon hadn’t meant to hurt him. T’lorna marveled at her son’s sense of compassion even as she tended his wound. It was deep and long and would require sewing – meaning that Noah would bear this scar for the rest of his life. Idly, she wondered if she could use a healing spell but then decided against it. Children so young could not always handle the influx of aether well and it might make things worse. Instead, she would use a simple numbing cantrip that required little aether and would allow her to stitch the wound closed without causing her son much pain.

The little dragon slithered out of its nest and crept up to T’lorna’s side, whimpering softly all the while as she set Noah on the ground and then pulled her suturing kit from her healer’s pack. Noah was doing his best to hold in his hiccoughing sobs and whimpers while he watched his mother thread the needle. His ruby eyes opened as wide as they could when, after thoroughly cleaning the cut, she reached for his face with one hand while holding the needle with the other.

“Dat hurt?” he asked, trying to wrench his face out of his mother’s grip.

“No. I promise,” she added as she renewed the numbing spell. She worked quickly, noticing that the little dragon had reached her son’s side and was licking his bloody fingers. Noah carefully patted the baby dragon as T’lorna swiftly sutured the cut and then slathered a healing salve on it. She pulled her roll of spidersilk bandages from her pack, and, cutting them into the shape she wanted, pressed the cloth against the cut to keep dirt from getting in it. By the time she was finished, the baby dragon and the boy were contentedly sharing each other’s company with Noah babbling while the little dragon continued to sniff and lick him.

“Well, I suppose that is one way to get to know each other,” T’lorna said with a rueful shake of her head. “You two really will be like brothers now. Mephina’s Moons, I wonder what your father would think of this,” she laughed.

“Daddy like dagons?” Noah asked as he continued to carefully stroke the little dragon’s muzzle.

“I suppose he would. I don’t think he ever got to meet any,” T’lorna sighed. “Your daddy never came to Dravania and he was only briefly in Coerthas.”

“I tell Daddy about dagons, den,” Noah said. “We go see him now?”

“Not today, baby,” T’lorna sighed. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Okay. Tamorrow den. Can my new fend come too?”

“No,” both mothers said at once. Both boys looked startled and T’lorna had to stifle a laugh. “Babies need to stay with their mamas when they’re little.”

“Okay,” Noah sighed. By now his new ‘fend’ was getting both hungry and tired and Noah himself was starting to twitch in a manner that indicated it was time for lunch and then a nap unless T’lorna wanted to deal with his crankiness all afternoon. Digging through her rucksack, T’lorna brought out the sandwiches she had made and handed one to Noah who quickly wolfed it down. The little dragon began licking Noah’s fingers and crowing happily at the left-over taste of bacon from the sandwich.

“Anudder, Mama?” Noah asked and she handed him a second sandwich. Noah tore this one in half and gave one half to the little dragon while he nibbled on the other half himself. “My fend like sammich,” Noah announced with a grin. “We have more?”

“One more,” T’lorna said with mock exasperation as she glanced over at Vidofnir. The large mother dragon nodded slightly as T’lorna gave up her own lunch to her son and his new friend. She also reached into her rucksack and pulled out the large canteen of milk she’d brought and gave it to Noah for him to use to wash down the sandwiches. He offered some to his young friend but the dragon had no interest in sweetened goat milk and turned away from it with a snort and a look of suspicious wonder as he watched Noah drink it down.

“All right, Noah,” T’lorna said in a soft but firm tone. “I think your little friend needs to take a nap and then needs to spend time with his mother. We can come back in a few days for you two to visit again.”

“Okay,” Noah said, blinking wearily as the food hit him and made him loggy. “Bye bye little dagon. I come back see you gin soon. I pwomise.”

The little dragon squawked at Noah and the young boy nodded as if he had understood whatever it was the little one had said. Vidofnir then leaned over and, gently taking the baby in her mouth, carried him back to her nest and settled him in. “An auspicious beginning,” the dragon mother said mentally to the Warrior of Light. “As important, in its own way, as the formal cessation of war between our peoples.”

“Yeah,” T’lorna sighed as she gathered her half-asleep child into her own arms. “This looks like the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna blinked and dragged her thoughts back to the present as she heard her son begin to cry. “Please, Daddy,” he sobbed against the tower door, “please come out. I be good. Please.”

“Noah,” T’lorna sighed as she reached down and gathered him into her arms. He pressed his face against her neck right over the claim mark that she still bore.

“Why he not come out, Mama? He not like me?”

“Baby, your daddy is asleep in the Tower to keep it safe. He did that to keep you and me safe. There are things in the Tower that could be dangerous, that could hurt you and your friend the little dragon. So, long ago, before you were born, your daddy locked the Tower up and locked himself inside it so that he could never be forced to let those bad things loose where they would hurt you or me.”

“But I want my daddy here wit me. Why he not come out?”

“Because he can only hear you in his dreams, sweetheart,” she tried to explain as she pressed her lips to her son’s temple. “He knows that you’re here but he can’t wake up unless the Tower is opened.”

“How we open it, den, Mama?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “But your Uncle Cid is working on trying to figure that out. Why don’t we go visit him and Biggs and Wedge tomorrow? Maybe you can help them.”

“Okay,” Noah sighed gustily. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck and buried his face against her skin. “Bye bye, Daddy,” he whispered as T’lorna turned and carried him away from the Tower.

~*~*~*~

“What brings you out here?” Cid asked with a laugh as T’lorna climbed down off her chocobo and then pulled her son down to set him on his feet on the ground. “And with little Noah, as well. I haven’t seen you in a long time, young man,” the Garlean said as he knelt down to be on eye-level with the boy. “So, what brings you and your mother out here?”

“We want open daddy’s towa,” Noah announced. Cid blanched and stood, staring at T’lorna. The Warrior of Light shrugged uncomfortably and spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “We went to see Daddy yetterday,” Noah explained. “And I told him ‘bout my new fend the dagon and about Mama fighting bad men and about Unka Tank sayin I’se too liddle to help and about how Unka Alphie made a new fend named Tinny-in. I told him I want him come out but he not come out. Mama say it be cause he sleep until the towa open. I want open it.”

“I… see…” Cid said slowly. “Well, we have been studying some of the things that make the Tower work. Maybe you could help us with them? Once we understand better how the Tower works, we might be able to get it to open. Now, why don’t you wait here with Mister Wedge while I talk to your mother?”

“Okay,” Noah shrugged as the Lalafell approached. “He not baby?”

“No,” T’lorna replied quickly. “He’s like Aunt Tata and Miss Krile.”

“Okay. You show me towa tings!”

“We have some excellent Allagan devices we’ve just retrieved from Azys Lla over here,” Wedge said uncertainly, clearly somewhat ill-at-ease at being asked to play the role of babysitter.

“Okay. I look.”

The Garlean and the Warrior of Light waited until Noah was on the other side of the small encampment and completely absorbed by looking at the things that Wedge was showing him.

“I thought,” Cid said carefully, “that you did not want your son to be used to open the Tower prematurely. And, while we have made great strides in understanding some aspects of Allagan technology, we are still nowhere near the level that would make it safe to re-open the Tower.”

“I know that,” T’lorna sighed as she scrubbed her hands over face. “But I couldn’t think of anything else to tell him. He was so distraught, Cid. He thought that his daddy didn’t like him or that he had done something so bad that his daddy wouldn’t come out of the Tower. He honestly thought that Raha was going to come open the doors and come outside if he asked. I don’t know how to do this,” she growled, tears of frustration and anger pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know how to raise my son to understand that his father didn’t abandon him – that his father didn’t even know he existed! Noah adores his daddy and he wants him. He’s heard stories from me, from Krile, from Alphinaud… He wants his father, Cid. So, when he was crying his heart out all I could think to do was tell him that you were working on opening the Tower one day. Let him ‘help you’ for a few days until something else catches his fancy and he forgets about the whole thing until next year.”

“Why take him back to remind him again?” Cid asked in confusion.

“Because, I want him to feel like he has a chance to talk to his daddy. At least while he’s so young. Maybe one day, when he’s old enough to understand the whole story, he’ll need for his father to just be a story he heard once upon a time. But, until then… well, even if it rips my heart out of my chest, I’ll suffer that for my son to feel like he can talk to his father and that his father can hear him.”

“I don’t envy you the struggle,” Cid sighed. “I was a teen before I lost my mother and at least I had Gaius looking after me when my own father became so enamored of Project Meteor that he forgot I existed. But to have to deal with a young one just starting to walk and talk who wants to know where his father is? That’s not a burden I’d wish on you, my friend. If we ever do succeed in opening the Tower and rousing your husband, believe me, I intend to have many words with him – most of them of the four-letter variety.”

“You and Geralin and Syris and Jinpu and…” T’lorna sighed. “No one was happy about Raha locking himself away even if it was to protect me and the world. There are times when I wish I could find some way to distract myself from missing him.”

“Well, I might have something to keep _your_ mind occupied while we distract your son,” Cid said with a rueful grin.

“Let’s see what this is,” T’lorna said carefully. “It’s not some Allagan monstrosity, is it? Because I dealt with enough of those back in Azys Lla.”

“No,” Cid replied. “Honestly, we don’t know _what_ it is. Just that it’s big and powerful.”

“Sounds promising,” T’lorna nodded as she followed Cid to see what it was that he had stumbled across this time.

~*~*~*~

“Wow,” was all Syris could say as he stared up at the monstrous metallic thing that had appeared in the middle of the Thaliak. “That is very big. I mean, it’s not Crystal Tower big but it’s plenty big enough.”

“‘Big?’” Geralin repeated with a laugh. “Is that all you can say of it? That it’s ‘big?’”

“It big,” Noah chimed in, agreeing with his Unka Sy. “It big big big.”

“See? Noah agrees with me,” Syris retorted. “It’s big.”

“Noah is just over a year old and barely speaks in comprehensible sentences,” Geralin laughed. “Him saying it’s big is fine. But you, on the other hand, do know other words.”

“Fine. It’s immense. It’s impressive. It’s ginormous.”

“Better. So, what is it?” Geralin asked T’lorna.

“Honestly? We haven’t the first foggiest clue,” she admitted. “It just appeared out of nowhere one day shortly after Nidhogg was defeated. It’s absorbing aether, though, which makes us wonder if it’s some kind of primal. But it doesn’t react like a primal. It’s just a big metal thing sitting in the middle of the river, doing nothing but eating aether.”

“Perhaps I can help with this?” an Au Ra woman said as she walked up to the group gathered at the thing’s base. “I’m a treasure hunter,” she explained, “and I have spent some time studying this creation and the gobbies who have decided to try to claim it as their own.”

“Couldn’t hurt to hear her out,” Cid muttered.

“Famous last words,” T’lorna whispered to herself as she began to listen to the woman’s story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we're starting to see some of the fall-out from G'raha locking himself in the Tower. Yes, there were *always* going to be consequences for that. And yes, we will have to see T'lorna struggle to deal with her own feelings as well as Noah's as time goes by. That said, this fic is not going to turn completely maudlin and focus solely on them missing G'raha. That pain will always be there but there are plenty of other things they'll both get to go through -- good and bad.


	39. A Mother’s Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to go back through and outline all of the Alexander raids. That would have gotten me stuck in describing them and the quest line for about another five chapters. Instead, I decided to skip ahead and move on to the intro into Stormblood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing in this universe.

“Quit trying to explain it, Cid,” T’lorna groaned as she lay on the cot with a cool compress over her forehead. “I _hate_ time travel.”

“Mama go twavel in time? How? She here,” Noah asked in confusion.

“Cid, I swear to the Twelve that I will kill you, kill myself, drag both of us through all seven of the hells seven times, resurrect us both, and then do it all over again if you get my son started on time travel and paradoxes.”

The Garlean wisely closed his mouth.

“Still, at least Mide and Drayan were able to be together at last,” Wedge said softly. “A bit odd how they wound up being their own ancestors but still…”

“Wedge, the offer I made Cid holds for you as well,” T’lorna growled. “And go tell Syris that the next time he throws me against a wall – even if it’s for my own good – I will make his head ring as badly as mine is right now.”

“If you’re complaining this much, then it can’t be that bad,” Geralin chuckled as he worked a healing spell. “It’s a mild concussion. Get used to them if you want to be a paladin or dark knight.”

“I think that my next skill to master will be thaumaturgy,” T’lorna winced as her head swam. It no longer pounded so frightfully that she thought she would be sick. “And having all these concussions can’t be good for anyone’s health,” she added, glaring at both Syris and Geralin.

“Gera checks us both over,” Sy muttered. “Don’t you get started, too. Besides, I’m mad at you. You neglected to tell us that your husband’s ‘business’ that took him ‘elsewhere’ was ‘locking himself in that damned tower and leaving you to raise his son on your own.’”

“Don’t start on this again, Sy,” T’lorna muttered. “At least, not in front of _him_ ,” she gestured to her son.

“He’s the spitting image of his father. That’s for damned sure,” Syris replied. “When we finally drag your husband out of his tower and get done beating the ever-living tar out of him, he will have no doubt that Noah is his son.”

“He would never have doubted that no matter what,” T’lorna said. “And that is quite enough of that kind of talk.”

“Fine. Well, while you were getting your head to quit pounding, Y’shtola sent us a message that there is someone back at the Rising Stones who wants to speak with you. She also said for us to stick around because, apparently, we’re going to be needed in Azys Lla.”

“Azys Lla?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Oh, great,” T’lorna sighed. “Well, let’s head for the Rising Stones to see what this mysterious person wants.”

~*~*~*~

It was several weeks later when T’lorna found herself back in her chambers above the Rising Stones, stroking Noah’s hair as he slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the greater struggles going on around him. In rooms just down the hall, the boy who had guided them into fighting the Warring Triad slept just as soundly – she had checked on him before she retired to her own rooms.

Her heart ached for the boy. Unukalhai had carried the burden of failing his people, of lacking the strength to stop the disaster that destroyed his world, for so long. He had been manipulated by one of the very people responsible for his reflection’s end: the Ascian Elidibus. How could Hydaelyn have called one so young? Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, breathing in her son’s clean scent, T’lorna prayed that Noah would be spared the calling to ever be a Warrior of Light and that, if he had to be called, that the Calling would come when he was old enough to bear it.

“What wong, Mama?” Noah asked sleepily as T’lorna’s soft, muffled sobs roused him. “Why cwy?”

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she sniffled, trying to mask her weeping with a soft laugh. “It’s just Mama being silly.”

“Mama not silly,” Noah protested. Then he smacked his lips, shoved his fist in his mouth, and was quickly asleep once more.

“Ah, but she can be,” T’lorna whispered as she continued to stroke her son’s hair and rub his ears fondly. Once she was satisfied that Noah was deeply asleep, she rose, washed her face, and then dressed for bed before she decided she was still too keyed-up to sleep just yet. Weaving a light shield around her son’s bed that would let her know if he woke up and came looking for her, she threw on a robe and went down to the public room of the Rising Stones.

Thancred glanced up at her from his seat at the bar. Only he and Y’sthola were still in the room at this time of night. Urianger had retired hours before and Alphinaud had gone with him. “Trouble sleeping, my friend?” the Hyur asked.

“You could say that,” T’lorna agreed as she took a seat at the table and let her back lean against the back of the chair.

“What’ll it be, then?”

“Something sweet and not too strong. I don’t want to have to deal with a toddler and a hangover.”

“I suppose that I was lucky with Minfilia being older when I first began to take care of her,” Thancred laughed as he poured T’lorna a drink. “I never had to choose between drinking and taking care of her.”

T’lorna took the drink and swallowed a gulp. Her eyes watered and her throat burned and she glared flatly at the Hyur. “What is in this?”

“Whiskey and a few other things.”

“I hate you,” she glared as she felt the drink go to her head. He started to pour her another and she waved it away. “You get to carry me up to bed. And no funny business, either. I’m a married woman.”

“Gods help me if I ever tried to charm you,” Thancred chuckled. “You, your brothers, and your husband would rip me to pieces. Still, you need to sleep deep tonight. You’ve been going non-stop for more than a month. And I saw the look on your face when Unukalhai told his story. If I don’t get you good and drunk, you’ll spend another night tossing and turning with your mind in a turmoil. And, we never know when the next big fight is going to come so we need you rested and ready to face it. We were lucky that you were given a reprieve while you were pregnant and while Noah was still in swaddling. We’re not guaranteed to get another such break so that you can recover from self-inflicted battle-fatigue.”

“You…” she sighed, shaking her head and regretting it, “you make a good point. And yes, I am angry about what happened to Unukalhai. That boy did not deserve to have that heavy a weight put on his shoulders! No child that age does. No child so young can bear it. Seven hells, there are days I wonder if I can bear it myself,” she muttered.

“You can,” Thancred said as he poured her another drink. “I’ve seen you bear it and many heavy burdens. And remember – you always have our help when you need it.”

“I know,” T’lorna sighed as she gulped down the second drink.

“What is it that is really bothering you?” Thancred asked quietly as he studied the Miqo’te. T’lorna was normally fairly composed and self-contained. She rarely let much emotion show unless she was with her son. Flashes of anger, frustration, sadness, and happiness were about the most he had seen from her since… “It’s that damned tower, isn’t it?”

T’lorna nodded dully and covered her face with her hands. “I hate him,” she sobbed. “I love him, Thancred, but sometimes I hate him, too. How could he do this? How could he just lock himself away and leave me to raise our son on my own? Okay, I know that he didn’t realize he was going to be a father when he shut himself in the Crystal Tower, but he damned well could have guessed! But here I am, alone, with a son who wants to know why his daddy won’t come see him. I’m the one who has to comfort Noah while hiding just how angry I am at Raha and how much I miss having him with me! So, I know what it means to feel helplessly, hopelessly alone. I know how that little boy feels. Gods, Thancred, he’s what? Ten years old if that? How could Hydaelyn put such a task on him?”

“Physically, he’s about that age,” Thancred said. “But I think he’s been around for a while longer than that. He seems incredibly mature for one so young.”

“He should be allowed to be a boy,” T’lorna argued. “He should be running in the streets with his friends, climbing trees, scraping his knees, swimming in the lake – not feeling like it’s his responsibility to save the world!”

“And now he will be able to do those things while you and Krile help him to develop his abilities with the Echo,” Thancred pointed out. “Come on now, my dear friend, let’s get you up to bed so you can sleep this off.”

“I’m not that drunk!” T’lorna insisted as she stood up. The floor tilted under her feet and she snarled in anger.

“You’re drunk enough to be completely honest about how you feel and to let some of those emotions out,” Thancred said evenly as he walked over and threw an arm around her so he could help her up to her chambers. “Which means, of course, you’re too drunk to navigate the stairs without help and that you probably won’t stay awake any longer than it takes me to drop you on your bed. And don’t worry about taking care of Noah in the morning. I’ll come up and get him so you can sleep late and wake hangover-free.”

With quick efficiency, Thancred guided T’lorna back up the stairs and into her chambers. He walked her over to her bed, tore the sheets back from it, and then helped her out of her robe. When he saw the scar on her shoulder, he flinched but said nothing, wondering just how she had gotten it. Tucking her in and sliding a basin near her head on the floor in case she got sick in the night, he snuck out of her rooms, closing the door behind him quietly.

When he returned to the public room downstairs, he saw Y’shtola sitting at the table still, reading. She glanced up at him and smiled, giving him the boldness to ask her the question on his mind.

“Have you ever seen the scar on T’lorna’s shoulder?”

“Scar? I would imagine that our friend has a great many scars from her battles,” the white-haired conjurer said with a wry grin. “What makes this one special?”

“It looks like someone bit her. Right here,” he gestured, indicating the place where shoulder and neck met. “Normally she keeps her shoulders and neck covered out of deference to Ishgardian traditions surrounding widows. Even when she was giving birth to Noah, her birthing gown covered her quite well.”

“A bite mark? On her neck right here?” Y’shtola asked, pointing to the same spot on her own neck. Thancred nodded and Y’shtola sighed. “It is little wonder, then, that she is so upset with G’raha Tia for leaving her. Any woman would be in turmoil if her Nuhn vanished from her life so abruptly. Though, I wonder if she even understands what he did to her by giving her that mark…”

“What do you mean?” Thancred asked worriedly. “You’re saying that her husband bit her? Why? I know that your people have some… _interesting_ practices but biting each other?”

“It’s something a nuhn does with his primary mates,” Y’shtola explained slowly. “Usually those closest to him in age since it would be deeply unfair to burden a young, breeding female with such a bond to a nuhn who is nearing the end of his life. It creates a bond between the nuhn and his wives. His wives can always find him through the bond, and he can tell easily when they are coming into their fertile seasons. But since T’lorna was not raised as a breeding female, she might not know what the bond means exactly. I doubt that G’raha Tia even knew what he was doing either. It likely just happened on instinct…” she sighed and waved her hand. “There’s nothing to be done about it in any case. If they are bound to each other, it means that T’lorna will suffer greatly during the next few years until she reaches a point where she is no longer able to bear children. And if we do manage to ever find a way into the Crystal Tower, it gives me a good reason to slap G’raha Tia across the face for doing this to her and not considering the consequences of it.”

“But you said he might not know those consequences. And what are they? How will she suffer? Why would she suffer?”

“It’s nothing that I care to discuss with you, my very masculine friend,” Y’shtola replied. “I’m not even comfortable discussing such matters with one who isn’t of our people. I told you as much as I just did because you happened to see the claim mark. For the rest, well, that’s a conversation I will have with T’lorna if and when it becomes necessary. Until then, you’ve given me a new bit of research to conduct.”

“My apologies,” Thancred muttered in confusion.

“Oh, it’s hardly your fault,” Y’shtola sighed. “Just… don’t tell T’lorna that you’ve seen her claim mark. Such things are generally only shown to the claimer and children. Seeing it is akin to seeing her naked.” Thancred blushed dark crimson. Y’shtola laughed softly. “I don’t think she would take offense in this case, but you must understand that it is wise you asked me about it instead of waiting to ask her. And not just because there is an even chance that she herself is unaware of the full ramifications of the mark.”

“I think that is my cue to go to my own bed,” Thancred muttered. “Gods know it can be dangerous talking to any of your people about your rather peculiar habits. The tribal letters, the system of Tias and nuhns, why your people make such damned good archers, and just what it is with accidentally brushing up against a tail in a crowd… honestly, talking about your people and your customs is a quagmire.”

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna woke late, her mouth dry and feeling as if it were coated with cotton. Her head was slightly tight, but it had been more emotion and exhaustion that had dragged her down to sleep than alcohol. Moving carefully, she rose, scrubbed her teeth clean, washed her face, and dressed for the day. As she moved slowly, carefully, pausing only to mix a heal-all remedy she’d found useful in helping Thancred with his morning-after headaches, she thought about the boy who was the trigger for her fears.

Part of her wanted nothing more than to go hug him and begin mothering him. However, she realized quickly that such a plan might very well backfire. Though Unukalhai appeared to be a Hyur child of only ten to twelve years, he could be far older due to the machinations and manipulations of the Ascians. Little was known of how time flowed within the void between the reflections or if time was even a concept there or within the Lifestream.

So, instead of swooping in on the boy, she would take her time. She would offer to help him come to understand the Blessing of Light. Krile could assist in that as well. Then, she would feel out what his talents were and do what she could to help him in gaining mastery over them. She would also do her best to include him in some of her outings. Trips around Eorzea might help him decide to leave off his mask entirely and give him a sense of community with the people of the world which he would now call home.

Her decision made, T’lorna rose, feeling her headache dissipate and her desire to have something in her stomach return, she headed down to the main room to see what was available for breakfast.

“Ah,” Tataru said brightly as she saw T’lorna come into the room. “We saved you some breakfast. Thancred took Noah out to play. They’ll probably be back around lunch time. But, in the meantime, a message from Ishgard came for you,” she added as she handed an envelope sealed with Ser Aymeric’s personal sigil. “They said it was not urgent.”

T’lorna cracked the seal and unfolded the letter. “It’s not urgent,” she agreed. “The Lord Commander wishes me to join him for dinner in a week. Looks like I’ll have to dust off my good widow’s weeds,” she sighed. “And to find something appropriate for Noah to wear as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're going to be moving into Stormblood proper within the next few chapters. I'm planning to spend no more than ten chapters on Stormblood proper with a few chapters for the transition events that lead into Shadowbringers.


	40. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we wrap up the first bit with the Warriors of Darkness. And we see that T'lorna has a temper sometimes. We'll see more of that in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“He’s growing so fast,” Aymeric said as he watched T’lorna settle Noah into a child’s seat and then placed his food in front of him and whispered for him to eat nicely. Noah nodded and began gnawing at one of the dinner rolls while his mother tucked a napkin around his neck.

“He is,” T’lorna agreed. “I can remember when he was just a little baby who couldn’t hold his head up without help.”

“I big boy now,” Noah announced, his voice muffled since his mouth was full of half-chewed dinner roll.

“Don’t talk and eat at the same time,” T’lorna reminded her son. “It’s not nice.”

“Sowwy, Mama,” Noah said after he gulped down what he had in his mouth.

“So,” Aymeric said once T’lorna had taken her own seat and begun to eat. “Tell me of your travels, of the things I missed.”

T’lorna grinned and began at the very beginning, telling him of Ysayle and Estinien. Of the bickering and then camaraderie that had sprung up between them. She told him of questing for the horn that the Moogles had given her that allowed her to summon Hraesvelgr himself. The tale took the entirety of three courses, the dessert course, and wrapped up only when they had left the table to sit in front of House Borel’s fireplace. Noah lay on the thick rug, sucking avidly at a marrow bone and beginning to rub at his eyes – a sign that it was nearly time to tuck him into bed for the night.

“To think the moogles would prove such harsh taskmasters!” Aymeric laughed as T’lorna wrapped up her tale. “Forgive me, I did not know you had suffered so in your quest for the horn. I must say, your spirited accounts always come as a welcome change from the arid reports which fill my days. Though I have lived in these lands my entire life, to hear you speak of them, there is much and more I have yet to see. Truly, yours was a marvelous journey.”

“It was a bit… protracted for my liking,” T’lorna said wryly.

“Protracted and arduous, aye,” Aymeric agreed with a grin. “Not unlike the journey that Ishgard has at last embarked upon ─ thanks to the efforts of you and yours.”

“Well, if you’re so eager to venture forth, why not join me on the next?” T’lorna teased.

“Hah! Well… truth be told, when I think back on the sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists, I do feel some slight pangs of wanderlust…” he sighed and shook his head. “Alas, much as I would like to accept your invitation, I fear my present duties with the House of Lords demand my undivided attention. Someday, perhaps.”

“Just remember,” the Warrior of Light reminded him as she walked over and picked her son up from the rug. Noah grimaced but settled back into his fitful state of half-sleep. “It wasn't all sunshine and lemoncakes.”

“Nor would I presume to imply otherwise. Neither I nor any man alive can truly understand what you have endured, and I cannot say with any confidence that I would have acquitted myself as well under the circumstances ─ much less grown stronger for it. By your deeds, you have helped us to lay the foundation for lasting reform,” Aymeric sighed. “The formation of the republic is but the beginning, for it is not only our system of governance which must needs change. We the people must learn to let go of our hatreds and rise above our bloody past. I only pray that I live long enough to see us achieve some measure of success ─ that I might know the lost did not die in vain. I can still see you there, on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm… If you could do that, who are we to balk at the challenges ahead? The question of how best to strengthen ties with the other great nations of Eorzea has been debated at length in the Lords and Commons of late,” he winced. “As you may imagine, maintaining stability during this period of historic upheaval is our paramount concern. Nevertheless, we are greatly indebted to the Alliance for their support during the grand melee, and it would be remiss of us not to repay their faith in kind. Of course, we owe you the greatest debt of all, and it is my hope that in extending our support to you and the Scions, we might also express our gratitude to our neighbors ─ nay, our fellow Eorzeans, whom we pray you will continue to protect. The Lords and Commons agree on very little, but not a soul in either house begrudges your order this offer of patronage. For all you have done and will do, we thank you,” he finished bowing slightly in his seat. A pregnant pause followed where Aymeric studied T’lorna and opened but closed his mouth several times before he finally found the conviction to speak again. “May I ask a personal question?”

T'lorna nodded, curious as to what question would have the leader of the republic so ill-at-ease.

“Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but… what do you want for yourself?”

T’lorna blinked in surprise. She had expected any question but this one. She thought it over, wondering how best to answer, when the door flew open to admit one of the servitors of House Fortemps. “Lord Commander, pray forgive the interruption!” he pleaded.

“News from House Fortemps?” Aymeric asked calmly.

“An urgent message for the Warrior of Light. I was instructed to deliver it without delay. Master Thancred returned to the manor a short time ago, bearing an injured maiden. Master Leveilleur and Mistress Tataru are tending to her wounds, but they like not her chances. Respectfully, my lord ─ they have requested the Warrior of Light's immediate presence.”

“You must go to them, my friend. And I shall go with you,” Aymeric promised as he rose and helped T’lorna gather up her son.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna and Aymeric wasted no time getting back to Manor Fortemps. Once inside, the pair brushed past the servants and hurried to the upstairs room where a crowd stood just inside the door. Alphinaud hovered by the bed, gazing down at his twin. T’lorna blinked in astonishment. She had only seen Alphinaud’s sister a few times in her journeys. Hurrying over to the bed, T’lorna reached out with her own healing powers to check the young woman over and offer her what little she could.

“Th… As ─ Ugh…,” she gasped as she struggled against the poison T’lorna could sense coursing through her veins. Noah’s eyes were wide with a mix of fear and worry.

“Who dat?” he asked softly.

“Is that…?” Aymeric whispered.

“Alisaie, Alphinaud's twin sister,” Thancred replied. “She ran afoul of the Warriors of Darkness,” he explained. “I had been tracking them since the ceremony at Falcon's Nest. Little did I know I was not the only one. Evidently, she had learned of their activities and attempted to shadow them on her own. Poorly. I rescued her in the Twelveswood, and together we fled north. But though I made every effort to cover our tracks, they caught up with us on the Ishgardian border, and in the ensuing struggle, Alisaie took an arrow to the shoulder. ‘Twas only after we had made good our escape that I realized it was poisoned…”

“Thank you for coming so quickly. And you, Ser Aymeric,” Alphinaud whispered, his face pinched in worry for his twin sister.

“Think nothing of it. How is she?” Aymeric asked.

“We have done all we can for now. Although the immediate danger has passed, the poison yet lingers in her blood…” he sighed. “We came to Eorzea together, hoping to bring salvation to the realm our grandfather gave his life to protect. But when confronted with the bitter realities of its politics and its petty powermongers, she was driven to anger ─ and to doubt. She refused to become embroiled in what she termed Eorzea's ‘squabbles,’ and distanced herself from the Scions. Though she remained hopeful of a brighter future, she would walk her own path. Would that it had not been so perilous,” he whispered as he stroked her hair. “For all our differences, she is as dedicated as any Scion to the salvation of Eorzea. But more than that, she is my sister…” his voice trembled. “To be reunited with her, only to lose her forever… Gods, even to speak the words…”

“No cry, Unka Alphie,” Noah said, tears in his own ruby eyes. “Mama make her all better. Right, Mama?”

“Take heart, Master Alphinaud. She will be attended by our most skilled chirurgeons. Bear Mistress Leveilleur to the infirmary at once,” Aymeric ordered the knights. “Apprise Captain Whitecape of the situation, and inform him that she is to be treated as my personal charge.”

“W-Wait…” Alisaie begged. “D-Don’t go… Please, come closer…” she asked softly. “Alphinaud… Is the Warrior of Light… Is she with you?” Alphinaud nodded. “D-Don’t go… there is something I must say…” she gasped. T’lorna moved and sat down next to the suffering girl, Noah holding himself still in her arms as he watched with wide eyes. “The Warriors of Darkness are in league with the Ascians… Slaughtering the primals is but the first step in their plan… They make for Xelphatol to bring about Garuda's summoning… And to kill her…” Alisaie panted, her strength nearly spent and her pain making her face contort as she struggled to deliver her message. “You must… You must stop them…”

“I… I shall inform the others at once!” Tataru said, eager for something to do to help.

“Master Thancred ─ I would ask that you accompany Mistress Leveilleur to the infirmary. Your knowledge of her injuries may well prove useful in determining her treatment,” Aymeric suggested.

“Of course,” the Hyur agreed with a curt nod.

“Though the fates afforded us the time to share our long-delayed drink, ‘twould seem the rest of my wine cellar will have to wait. As I am constantly reminded, there is no rest for the righteous,” Aymeric sighed as he glanced sadly at T’lorna.

“However much we may change and grow apart… some bonds are unbreakable.”

“Surely, surely they won't let her…” Alphinaud stammered. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “Yes, yes, I know. We must trust in Captain Whitecape and his chirurgeons. Did they not bring Estinien back from the very brink of death? I am uncomfortably reminded of how he mocked me for praying at his bedside for days on end,” he sighed as he gazed on his sister. “What say you, my friend? Shall we turn our attention to a matter whose conclusion we yet have the power to influence?” he asked as he turned to regard T’lorna.

~*~*~*~

“I am glad you are feeling better, Alisaie,” T’lorna said warmly as she and Alphinaud returned to the Fortemps Manor after facing the Warriors of Darkness and thwarting their plans in Xelphatol. “I hope Noah hasn’t been _too_ much of a bother,” she added with a smile that contained laughter as she watched her son scold his Aunt Alisy for getting out of bed.

“You be sick,” he was muttering to her, wagging his finger at her the way his mother did him whenever he misbehaved. “You to back to bed. I come read to you. Then it be night-night time. Me and daddy doll make sure you go night-night.”

“I had heard rumors that you had a child,” Alisaie muttered as she stared back and forth between the Warrior of Light and the little boy who had scarcely let her get more than a yalm from him ever since she’d been discharged from the infirmary. “But I had thought him to look more like Haurchefant.”

“Gods be good,” Alphinaud groaned. “T’lorna and Haurchefant were never more than friends.”

“He looks like G’raha Tia. That mischievous Miqo’te who was obsessed with Allag. Remember him from the Studium, brother dear?” Alisaie asked.

“G’raha Tia is my husband,” T’lorna said calmly, willing her expression to remain, if not happy, at least neutral. It still pained her to speak of her husband. “We met during the expedition to the Crystal Tower.”

“I see,” Alisaie said slowly. “You are the spitting image of your father,” she added as she squatted down so her eyes were level with Noah’s.

“I not spit! That bad!” Noah protested angrily.

“No, I meant that you look just like your father.”

“Oh. Me know that. Mama tell me that lots of time. And then I have my daddy-doll and he look like me,” Noah shrugged. “But my daddy still sleep in his Tower.”

“What? I cannot make any sense of that last bit,” Alisaie said as she glanced over at T’lorna for a translation. “What happened to G’raha Tia? Why are you wearing widow’s weeds? He didn’t…”

“Not exactly,” T’lorna sighed, thinking over how best to explain it.

“You tell story of how you and my daddy meet?” Noah asked eagerly.

“I suppose I could start with that,” T’lorna sighed. She took a seat and gestured for the others to get comfortable. Noah climbed up into her lap and stared at her in rapt fascination. He loved hearing stories about his father. “It all started when a stranger in Mor Dhona told me of an expedition to the Crystal Tower…”

~*~*~*~

“That sounds like the G’raha Tia I knew,” Alisaie said as T’lorna wrapped up her story. “He ever was one to be wrapped up in stories and to wish to be a hero. A romantic at heart. I’m not surprised that he fell in love with you. I’m not surprised you fell in love with him. He was quite charming. And the thought of sacrificing himself to save you? That’s the man I knew once upon a time.”

“Yeah!” Noah cheered. “Dat my daddy!”

“But he never suspected…?” Alisaie asked, gesturing subtly towards Noah. “Surely he would not have done as he did had he known…”

“Even _I_ didn’t suspect,” T’lorna said softly. “Not for almost three moons.”

“Well, I suppose there’s not much that can be done now,” Alisaie sighed. “And you named your son after that expedition?”

“After that and after an archmage of Allagan history,” T’lorna nodded.

“It is a fitting name, I suppose. And one that I will tease G’raha Tia about when we finally figure out how to re-open the Crystal Tower,” she quipped. “But, for now, we have other business to be about. I am recovered enough to join you in hunting these Warriors of Darkness, my friend. That is, if you will have me.”

“It will be a pleasure to have you with us. Especially in your new garments,” T’lorna said with a grin. “Finally, I can tell the two of you apart at a glance.”

“Tataru never ceases to impress… Though, for a moment, I feared she might furnish you with an identical outfit,” Alphinaud laughed.

“Praise the Twelve she did not! Mother and Father were rather too fond of making us wear matching clothes. Do you remember that time at the Studium when that girl of yours crept up behind me in the hall and whispered…” Alisaie said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Alphinaud stammered and waved his hands in protest. “Sister, please! She was not my ─ Ahem, can we not have this conversation in front of the _Warrior of Light_!?

“So be it,” Alisaie shrugged. She and T’lorna shared an amused glance. “Another time, perhaps.”

“I’d love to hear it,” T’lorna agreed.

“New garments aside, I must say that you seem different ─ more… resolute than when last we met. You have the look of a woman who is ready to fight for the future of Eorzea,” Alphinaud said, desperate to change the subject away from his younger, more foolish, days.

“To the extent of my abilities, perhaps, but I have no delusions of grandeur. Nor will I pretend to have ‘found myself’ or any such thing. I am here today because I would regret it if I weren’t. That is all,” Alisaie said confidently. T’lorna grinned to herself. She really could sound like her twin brother at times.

“Fair enough,” Alphinaud agreed with a nod. “Let us depart for the Waking Sands, then, and see if Urianger can be of assistance.”

“I stay here, Mama? Or I go too?” Noah asked softly.

“I suppose you can come with us,” T’lorna said. “It’s been a while since got to visit with your Unka Urijer. Goodness knows that it is amusing to see him get knocked out of his comfort zone,” she muttered, shooting a glance at Alphinaud.

“That was the best part of having Moenbryda around,” the young Elezen agreed with a wide grin. “But, for now, we’ll just have to turn Noah loose near Unka Urijer’s books.”

With a laugh, T’lorna hurried upstairs to change out of her formal clothes and to pack a few things for Noah in case she needed to leave him with his elder Elezen uncle for a day or two.

~*~*~*~

In the Bowl of Embers, across the distance, T’lorna glared daggers at Urianger. She scarcely heard his words when he revealed his triple cross. All she could think was that she had entrusted the man with her son when she left Noah at the Waking Sands to answer the call to battle against Titan. And now that man, that very man, _dared_ to stand _here_! Gods, she would entrust Noah to the hot-headed Yda and Papalymo before she thought to ever leave her son with that golden-eyed whoreson standing across the field from her! Seven hells, she would entrust Noah to a primal, first! At least _they_ could be counted upon to be where they were supposed to be in the first damned place!

So enraged was T’lorna, that she nearly missed the revelation that the Warriors of Darkness crossed the rift from their world to hers employing means similar to that of the Ascians.

“Wait! Such methods as the Ascians employ require the renunciation of the flesh. You… you would have had to…” Alphinaud gasped in horror at the realization just as T’lorna felt her own stomach clench.

The brown-haired, blue-eyed Hyur warrior who led the band nodded grimly. “At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives,” he explained, emotion filling his words. “We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there ─ we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought… until there was no one left to fight. We won… and now our world is being erased from existence. We did _everything_ right, everything that was asked of us, and still ─ _still_ it came to this!” the man snarled angrily, clenching his jaws and his fist in outrage. “You of all people should understand! We cannot ─ we _will_ not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it.”

“I've died before, Arbert. I'm not afraid to die again,” the knight standing next to him said calmly.

“No matter how many times we fall, we must rise and carry on the fight. For those we left behind,” added the priestess, a Lalafell woman, who stood with them.

“To have known the depths of sorrow and embrace the highest sacrifice ─ nonetheless…” Urianger prayed as he lifted his face to the heavens. “Master Louisoix, guide my hand, I pray you, as fate's thread spinneth upon this most capricious spindle.” Then, the golden-eyed man dared to turn his gaze upon T’lorna and order. “Quickly! Thou must needs invoke the power of thy crystal!”

Enraged as she was, she could sense Minfilia’s presence and knew that she had to do as bidden. She would deal with the treacherous Urianger _after_. Holding aloft her Crystal, T’lorna called upon the power within it, within herself, and felt reality slipping away as they were all transported on the calming tides of the Aetherial Sea.

“What is this place?” Alphinaud demanded.

“Such pain… Such sorrow… Oh, my dear children…” Minfilia’s voice with the strange reverberation of Hydaelyn swelling within it rang out in the vastness.

“I-It can't be!” Thancred gasped.

“Mother Hydaelyn, hearken unto Your children's plea!” Urianger pleaded. “From two worlds do we gather, and from two worlds do we offer a bounty of Light. In this desperate hour, we do beseech Your intercession! We beg an audience with the Word of the Mother ─ with Your chosen, Minfilia!”

“Your cries go not unheard… Nor your sacrifices unnoticed… Though many are lost, there are those we can yet save… Whom I can yet save…” With that, the Voice of the Mother in the guise of Minfilia appeared before them all.

“Minfilia!” Alphinaud cried out. She nodded towards the Scions but turned her attention to the Warriors of Darkness.

“Blessed children of the First. The light of your world hath grown blinding in its radiance, but it is not yet absolute. I will hie me to your world and there take unto myself the Light which riseth even now to drown it, as Darkness once did drown another.”

“ _Now_ you deign to answer our prayers!? I will suffer this farce no longer!” the Warrior of Darkness shouted as he rushed at Minfilia, his great axe at the ready. She halted him with a soft gesture and continued to speak calmly.

“As the Ascians must serve as instruments of Zodiark's will, so too must others carry out the will of Hydaelyn. But for the boon you have granted Her, She has grown strong enough to set me free, that I might serve as Her emissary. Your suffering, your sacrifice, your supplications ─ She has heard all. We will not let the First fall to Light. Thank you, Urianger, for bringing everyone here. It fills my heart with joy to look upon the faces of my friends once more,” she added, turning to regard the Scions once more.

“In taking you unto Her bosom, I knew that Hydaelyn had bequeathed to you a sliver of Her grace, granting you strength long sought. And in treating with the Ascians, I learned of a star like unto our own ─ a doomed world of fallen heroes, in whom I glimpsed ourselves. The First. Full long did I search for a means to save this world, concluding at the last that the answer lay in the power of blessed crystals. And thus did I labor to set Light against Dark,” he explained both to Minfilia and to the others gathered with him. “Yet I knew from the beginning that this salvation would not come without sacrifice, for the instrument of the First's deliverance would of necessity be required to journey thither… there to remain, mayhap forever.”

“You orchestrated all of this not to save her, but to send her away!?” Alphinaud shouted in protest.

“One life for one world. Such was the bargain, and you the coin, though it were not mine to spend,” Urianger said to Minfilia softly, sadly.

“Have we not walked together in the light of the Crystal, and at Her bidding borne witness to the joys and sorrows of this land? Each and every one of you knows my heart. If this be the price I must pay, I pay it gladly,” Minfilia said confidently.

“You would go alone then?” Thancred asked, sounding as if the words were strangling him.

“My dearest Thancred…” Minfilia said, smiling at him with warmth and deep affection. “You who have ever watched over me… I am truly grateful for all you have done on my behalf, as would my father be. Your kindness, your compassion, your love… These are your gifts to me, and our gifts to them, forming a bond which transcends time and space.”

“Sometimes I forget you are not the child I once knew. Make me proud,” Thancred said softly.

“Long have I watched you from Hydaelyn’s side. Watched as you nurtured and kept safe the light of the dawn. The dark recesses of the world hide untold secrets and dangers. Thus do I entrust to you Tupsimati. I pray you keep to the path that you may never have need of it,” Minfilia said as she turned to T’lorna and bequeathed to her Louisoix’s great staff.

“Hear me, servant of Hydaelyn,” the Warrior of Darkness said, beseeching a favor he was not certain would be granted. “If you would have us place our trust in you, then I would ask a favor. Take us with you. Take us home.” Then, he turned to face T’lorna. Their eyes locked and she knew that she was standing before her equal. “We were blind to the truth once,” he told her. “So I tell you this, as one fool to another. Light, Dark, it doesn't matter. What matters is how you choose to use them. We made our choice, and you see what came of it. So please… forge a different path. Seize a better fate.”

“'Tis a strange feeling. So many times have I watched you depart, my heart filled with worry, and ever did you return to me in triumph. Someday, when I have found a way to free this star from Her sorrow, I promise you I shall repay the favor,” Minfilia said as she gathered the Warriors of Darkness into her power and then vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun thing to learn when you go to start a chapter -- to discover that you have lost all of your recordings of Stormblood and that NONE of the quest sites you check have the dialogue. This means I'm going to have to go back through Stormblood on NG+. 
> 
> So, that means that while I have next week's chapter ready, I don't have anything for after that. I'm going to spend this weekend getting that info so I won't need to take a break but I am warning you all that there may be a brief interruption as I gather information. I mean, yes, I know the story but I pull a lot of dialogue out of the game. That means relying on sites like Gamer Escape or my own recordings.


	41. A Broken Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, T'lorna's got a temper. It just takes a lot to get her to unleash it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing in this universe.

After finding themselves transported back to Thanalan, T’lorna and the Scions made way to the Waking Sands. Her anger at Urianger was palpable but she knew – as did the others – that she would not be able to think straight until she laid eyes on her son and saw that he was, as the golden-eyed whoreson claimed, ‘safe and sound.’ Thankfully, they left her alone and kept a good distance between her and the whoreson whom she might have to kill so very, very soon.

As T’lorna stormed into the building, throwing the downstairs doors open so hard they slammed against the wall and nearly closed in the faces of those behind her, her heart was in her throat. She felt as if her vision had been cut off so that she could only see through a dark tunnel in front of her.

“Where. Is. My. Son?!” she shouted in anger and panic when she did not see him immediately. Her words came out a nearly inhuman growl. The guards jumped in fright and began babbling, further stoking her ire. T’lorna unsheathed her sword and grabbed her shield, ready to slice and pummel answers out of the first person at hand.

“Mama!” she heard Noah call out from the side room where the merchants kept stock of their wares. “I here! I have ‘venture with Missah Brim!”

T’lorna’s legs nearly buckled in relief. She dropped her blade and shield and staggered, punch-drunk, to her son. She did not breathe until she had stumbled to her knees in front of him and clutched him in her arms.

“It’s alright, lass,” a familiar voice said from a great distance away. “The lad was safe enough with me or me name’s not Brendmont.” T’lorna continued to cling to her son, sobbing in relief that he was safe. “True, I took the boy for a bit of a walk. Let him ride me chocobo up through the tunnel so he could have a bit of a splash in the waters up there. But I brought him back here and kept an eye on him, just as I promised Master Augurelt afore he left to go on an urgent errand.”

“Thank you,” T’lorna whispered hoarsely. “Thank you, Brendmont, for keeping my son safe.”

“Weren’t nothing at all,” the man said, blushing. “He’s a fine lad, your boy. And soon as I heard he was yours, of course old Brendmont had to tell him the tale of how I helped you get started on your way to becoming the Warrior of Light.”

“Mama, we had _fun_ ,” Noah insisted as he tried to squirm out of her grasp. “We rode chocobos. We swimmed. We got fishes. He tell me stories ‘bout you. Stories you not ever tell me.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, baby,” T’lorna said as, at last, she loosened her grip on her son. “I’m just going to go… check on something. You stay here with Mister Brendmont and Unka Alphie, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.”

T’lorna struggled to her feet and then staggered out of the room and into the Solar where she grabbed the first large bowl she could find and was violently ill. She heard the door open and close softly behind her and knew, without looking, who it was. “I’m not certain I can talk to you right now, Urianger,” she whispered as she scrubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. Her legs and arms felt like overheated rubber and her head pounded with a fierce headache. She rolled to her seat and leaned against the wall, letting her head loll back as she struggled to catch her breath and calm her still-thundering heart.

“I do not expect thy forgiveness for what I did,” Urianger said softly, sadly. “Nor did I think to worry thee so. Surely thou knowest that I would guard Master Noah’s safety well even if it were required that I leave him behind.”

“Listen to me, Urianger, and listen well,” T’lorna said. It was easier to talk to the man with her eyes closed so she could not see him. “Noah is _all_ I have of my husband. He is _all_ I will _ever_ have of Raha. Originally, when I was forced to leave the Tower and try to take up my life again, I tried to tell myself that I would do it for him. For Raha. But that wasn’t enough. Gods, if I didn’t have Noah…” T’lorna said, struggling to stifle a sob. “If I didn’t have my son who looks _exactly_ like his father, I don’t think I would have ever made it this far. I think that I would have let myself fall in battle somewhere along the way. Oh, I would have fought. I would have fought hard and well. But my heart wouldn’t have been in it. But I _do_ have Noah. And ever since I learned he was coming, _he’s_ been the reason I get up in the morning. _He’s_ the reason I am fighting for a better tomorrow. _He’s_ the reason that I worked to end the Dragonsong War and to stop the Ascians. Not for Eorzea. Not for the Scions. Not for Hydaelyn. For _him_. For my _son_. Because _he is all I have in this world that is **mine**_.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed at her chest. “I don’t give half a damn what history will record as my reasons for fighting. I know my reason: Noah. He is part of me. He holds my heart and my soul in his little hands. And I _trusted_ you with him. Because I thought you would take care of him when I couldn’t. But you didn’t, did you? No. You had your mission. Sure, sure. It was important,” she sighed. “You needed to get the Warriors of Darkness an audience with Minfilia to stop their madness. But did you have to choose a way that involved _leaving my heart and soul behind_?!”

“My lady…” Urianger said, stunned. “I… I did not think…”

“No, you didn’t,” T’lorna said, cutting him off. Her voice was soft. “You didn’t think. Oh, I’m not going to pull the ‘you’re a man’ card or the ‘you don’t have children’ card on you. But I will agree that you. Did. Not. Think. I trusted you with the most precious thing in this world to me.

“And you _betrayed_ that trust. Yes, I know,” she added, waving him off before he could protest. “You thought you could keep him safe here by leaving him with someone else. And it is purest luck that you were right. But this place has been attacked before. Barely two years ago, we lost how many here? And what was the butcher’s bill for the Bloody Banquet here in Ul’dah? Do you have _any_ clue what kind of bargaining chip the Monetarists or the Royalists or the Syndicate would have if they could lay hands on _my son_? I entrust his welfare to _damned_ few people. You were one of them. But you broke that trust. It will take you a _long_ time to earn it back. But I will tell you this,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and forcing her eyes to lock on to his. “If I ever do trust you with Noah again and you leave him behind without what _I_ would consider a damned good reason, I will start with your toes and end with your skull and break every bone in between. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lady,” Urianger said, his eyes wide with shock at the realization that she really _could_ and _would_ do such a thing if provoked. “I accept your judgement.”

“I’m taking my son and going back to Ishgard. In time, I will calm down and we will work together again. But do not _ever_ make me regret giving you even _that_ much of my trust.”

Before he could reply, she swept past him and gathered up Alphinaud and her son and headed back to Ishgard.

“I take it that the Warrior of Light was less than impressed at your babysitting ability,” Alisaie quipped when she came into the Solar to find a still-staring Urianger standing in the middle of the room where T’lorna had left him. “Urianger? Gods, are you all right?”

“I… I hurt her,” he mumbled as tears began to shine in his eyes. “The lady entrusted her greatest treasure to me and I cast it aside like dross. No wonder she is so wroth with me.”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it in time,” Alisaie said with the easy grace of the young. “I mean, he was safe the whole time, wasn’t he?”

“That, Mistress, is not the point,” Urianger said, half to her and half to himself. “Had anything untoward happened to her child… then the victory which I savored so today would have turned to ash for we would have lost the very person upon whom so much depends. Leave me, please,” he asked softly. “I have much upon which I must ponder.”

~*~*~*~

Exhausted as she was by her unaccustomed bout of emotion, T’lorna begged off going to retrieve and report to Yda and Papalymo, letting Alphinaud go on his own while she and Noah returned to the Rising Stones. Once there, she carried him to their rooms and convinced him to take a nap – not a difficult feat considering the way he was rubbing at his eyes and yawning. Tucking Noah into her bed, T’lorna stripped off her armor, washed at the basin, and then dressed in a light shift before laying down next to her son.

She watched him sleep, peace finally filling her as she stroked his hair and rubbed his ears. Biting her lips, she did her best to keep her weeping silent so as not to wake him.

Urianger would probably never fully understand just how frightened she had been at the thought of her son being left among virtual strangers. The Elezen might know those people at the Waking Sands but T’lorna did not. From the moment she had first spied Urianger after he’d discarded his mask, her heart had been held in an icy grip of sheer, mindless terror. All she could think was how would she go on without him to brighten her life and what Raha would say about her being so careless of _his_ son. Though her husband might not wake to the world for centuries to come, surely history would have recorded that the Warrior of Light was stupid enough to leave _his_ son with…

T’lorna shoved her knuckles against her teeth and bit down to keep from sobbing out loud. No, Urianger would probably never understand. But she’d do her damnedest to _make_ him understand.

Finally, spent with emotion and only at peace because she could feel her son sleeping next to her, T’lorna closed her eyes and gave herself over to resting so she could be presentable when Yda and Papalymo returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I managed to NG+ through the last quarter of HW and am starting back in SB tonight. If all goes well, I should be able to put out another chapter on next Friday.


	42. Rage and Control (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wound up having to split this chapter up once I realized it was almost forty pages long. We're about to get into a bit of my headcanon on how multi-classing works and why people have soul stones. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna watched Yda out of the corner of her eye as the two women stood off by themselves within the vast control room that sent signals to the Omega Weapon. Cid, Nero, the giant Gosetu, Yugiri, and Alphinaud, stood around with the two Garleans arguing about which controls did what. T’lorna paid them some attention – Omega was a creation of Allag and, thus, part of her son’s heritage. Part of her longed to explore, catalogue, examine, take apart, and study every device in the room in hopes that they would yield up even more knowledge so that they would be one day closer to opening the Crystal Tower so that her son could have his father in his life.

But, her mind also raced along another track. In the past few days since she had introduced her son to Yda and Papalymo, the Lalafell had been lost. She sighed and shook her head softly – she couldn’t dwell on those they lost but she ached for how it would hurt her son to understand that he would never see the little Lalafell man again. There were times when T’lorna wondered why she didn’t just leave her son with her own parents back in the tribe to shield him from meeting friends of hers who might very well die in battle before Noah got a chance to really know them. She also wondered just how safe a place like the Rising Stones could be. After all, they had lost control of the Waking Sands once after swearing that it was a haven for the Scions. Could the same thing happen in Mor Dhona? She felt the rage welling up within her again and clenched her fists as she tried to control it, to quell it. Ever since Urinager had pulled that fool stunt, T’lorna had found herself falling into black rages which it seemed nothing could her out of. When one struck, she would go off into the wilderness and slay as many monsters as she could until she was so exhausted she couldn’t think. Only that seemed to give her the quiet she needed to be a mother, to be a friend, to be the Warrior of Light once more. She knew that she needed to talk to someone about it but she could not think of whom she might confide in.

Besides, she had plenty of reasons to be angry these days. She was angry that her son would never get to know his father and that her husband had left her to deal with all of the consequences of their time together alone. She was angry that a man she had thought she could trust with her life would turn around and betray that trust so easily. She was angry that she had not been fast enough or strong enough to stop Ilberd from summoning yet another gods-be-damned primal and that Papalymo was forced to pay the price for her incompetence.

And she was growing increasingly angrier at the way that Nero seemed ready to gloat and run roughshod over everyone as if the golden-haired Garlean had no clue that he was alive on sufferance only.

 _Calm_ , she ordered herself as she closed her eyes and cast her mind back over the events of the past few days, trying to uncover the reasons for her sudden, blinding rages. _Calm._

Her thoughts drifted back to that first evening at the Rising Stones…

~*~*~*~

T’lorna had set aside her anger for the moment. She knew it would burn for a while until she truly moved on from it but, for now, the target of her anger was far away. She could relax. She closed her eyes as she rose from the bed and went about cleaning and dressing again. Standing in front of the mirror over her wash basin, T’lorna forced each of her muscles to relax, starting with her brow, then unclenching her teeth, relaxing her neck and shoulders so she could roll her head from side to side, drawing deep breaths until her stomach and back unclenched, untensing her arms and letting her fists hang loose and limp. When only those muscles required to keep her standing were the ones that were tense, she opened her eyes and focused on taking deep, even breaths. For a slow, steady count of five she inhaled, held her breath for another count of five, then exhaled for the same length, holding her breath again for a pause before repeating the exercise again.

“Mama?” she heard Noah’s sleepy voice call out to her. “Mama, where you go?”

“I’m over here, Noah,” T’lorna said, pleased at how calm and even her tone was. “Let’s get you dressed enough to go down and have supper. Our new friends will be there and you should get to know them since they’ll be living here with us from now on.”

“Okay,” Noah muttered. She heard him clambering down out of the bed and then walking over to where she kept his clothes. She met him at the wicker basket that held his normal clothing and helped him select a fresh shirt and pair of shorts. Tugging the others off and putting them in with the laundry to be done, she gave her son a quick washing down before re-dressing him and helping him into his boots. She grabbed a comb and combed his hair into some semblance of neatness before brushing his ears and tail and then announcing that they could go for dinner.

“T’lorna,” she heard Yda say as she and Noah made their way into the main hall. “They said that you have a… oh my goodness,” the woman breathed, her voice rising in surprise. “He is a handsome little thing.”

“I Noah Tia,” Noah introduced himself. “Who you?”

“I’m Yda Hext. I’ve known your mother a long time.”

“Gods be good,” Papalymo said as he glanced over at the boy. “Was G’raha Tia his father?”

“That my daddy,” Noah nodded.

“You look exactly like him,” the Lalafell grinned. “Even if you have two red eyes instead of one red, one blue.”

“G’raha’s blue eye turned red after the clones Unei and Doga gifted him with their Allagan blood,” T’lorna said quickly.

“I’d heard some mad story about your expedition to the Crystal Tower,” Papalymo said. “But, truth be told, shortly after that, Yda and I were left to fend for ourselves and were a bit pre-occupied with helping our friends in the Resistance for me to pay much heed to anything going on beyond that.”

“I know,” T’lorna replied as she settled into her chair at the table, holding Noah in her lap.

“If I had known you were pregnant back at the Bloody Banquet, I daresay I would have done more to keep the pressure off you,” Papalymo continued as he hoisted himself up into the chair next to T’lorna.

“Even I didn’t know that I was carrying a child then,” the Warrior of Light sighed. “I didn’t learn about Noah being on the way until we were in Ishgard and already under the protection of House Fortemps.”

“How you not know?” Noah asked curiously.

“Well, you didn’t tell me,” T’lorna grinned. “You kept yourself a little secret for several moons.”

“I wonder why I do that,” Noah said, his brow furrowing in thought. “Maybe I play hide and seek with you then?”

“Something like that,” T’lorna chuckled. “Or, you could have been acting like your daddy and trying to surprise me.”

“Daddy surprise you? You like surprise?”

“He surprised me many times,” she smiled softly. “And I like _some_ surprises, my son. Good ones.”

“He has a quick and agile mind,” Papalymo laughed. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised by that considering who his parents are.”

“Why you so small but not baby?” Noah asked suddenly, his ruby gaze locking on to Papalymo’s. “Aunt Tata and Miss Kwile also small but not babies neither. Why?”

“I’m sorry, Papalymo,” T’lorna started to say but the mage waved her off.

“My people have always been little,” Papalymo said, meeting Noah’s gaze evenly. “It’s part of who we are just like you having long, furry ears and a tail is part of who you are. As for why we are so small – it is said that my people are master manipulators of aether and that, in order to keep us from becoming too powerful, the gods decided to make our bodies small so we would remain humble. But just remember that small things can be powerful. After all,” he explained as he reached into his pouch and withdrew a small explosive, “this device is small enough for me to hold in my hand but powerful enough to bring down this entire building.” Noah’s eyes grew wide and he nodded.

“I not forget. Small things be strong. I small and I strong but not strong enough to fight with Mama. Not yet. Unka Tank tell me when I be strong enough to knock him down, I be big enough to help fight. Can _you_ knock Unka Tank down? And what you called?”

“You can call me Uncle Papalymo if you can pronounce that,” Papalymo laughed. “And yes, I can knock Thancred – I presume that is who ‘Unka Tank’ is,” he added with a glance at T’lorna. She nodded and he continued, “I can knock Thancred down. I just use my magic to do it.”

“Teach me magic, Unka Papalee,” Noah asked.

“Well, the first magic you’ll have to learn is how to read. You can’t do much until you can do that.”

“How I learn read?”

“We’ll start teaching you letters soon,” T’lorna promised. “Once you know all the letters, we can teach you words and then you’ll start reading. It’ll take a while, though. You’ll have to practice at it before you get good enough to learn magic.”

“Okay. I practice sword until then?”

“Gods be good,” Papalymo said, staring at T’lorna, “he’s barely a year old and you’re teaching him to use weapons already?”

“He’s quite good at hitting things with a stick,” she explained. “Though his form leaves much to be desired. Still, he enjoys ‘practicing’ and it leaves him tired enough to sleep the night through.”

“Ah, I see,” the Lalafell said with a blush. “Boys will be boys. I believe I underwent much the same kind of training at his age.”

“Do you know my daddy?” Noah asked quietly.

“I did know him. We all studied together for a time before I became a pupil of Louisoix’s. All of us in the Circle of Knowing knew your father. He was a good man and a great scholar.”

“I be like him when I get big. I be schooler, too. And I open his towa so he come out and play.”

“I’m sure you will,” Papalymo grinned. “I’ll tell you stories about your father when I can.”

“I’m sure you and Yda must have some new ones that he hasn’t heard from Y’shtola, Krile, Alphinaud, or Thancred already,” T’lorna chuckled.

“Oh, I’ll tell him everything I know about his father,” Papalymo promised. “And I’ll tell him about the great Louisoix and how I became his best pupil for all that Urianger thinks _he_ was.”

At the mention of the Elezen’s name, T’lorna felt her body clenching up again and struggled to keep her breathing even. Noah sensed that something was wrong with his mother and began to twist in her grip, trying to grab her face. She heard him babbling but could not make out his words over the great rush of blood pounding in her ears. Slowly, as calmly as she could, she set her son on the table and stood up.

“F’lhaminn,” she called out, her voice strangely distant to her own ears. “Could you keep an eye on Noah for me for a while? I need some air.”

She scarcely heard the other woman’s reply before she was rushing for the doors to Mor Dhona. Once outside, she whistled for her chocobo and leapt aboard it, racing for the road towards the Crystal Tower.

It was hours later, well past full-dark, before T’lorna regained a sense of herself. She was sitting, her knees splayed and her sword and shield on the ground in front of her, both coated liberally with blood. She could tell that her legs were a mass of scrapes and cuts from the jagged crystals she’d walked through or stumbled over and, glancing around, she could see bloody corpses of gigas, hippogryphs, and hapalits strewn around her. Staggering to her feet, she began making her way back towards the Rising Stones and wondered just how she had gotten so far from the town without being aware of it.

~*~*~*~

 _That was the first time the rage overtook me_ , she thought to herself as she tried to focus on something other than her desire to strangle Nero. _I left a swath of corpses in my wake. Gods, the gigas, hippogryphs, and hapalits have still not recovered from the sheer numbers of them I slew in the space of a few hours. Thank the Twelve that the others were able to keep Noah calm and get him to bed that night. He believed me the next morning when I told him that I had just taken a really long walk. No need for him to have to deal with the fact that his mother could kill so many for no reason other than she was angry._

Still forcing herself to stay meditative, she examined the next time she had grown so angry she had lost track of herself…

~*~*~*~

“Greetings, my friends,” Pipin said. “‘Tis good to see you both well.”

“I was hopin’ you might turn up,” Hilda added. T’lorna grinned at the half-Elezen, half-Hyur woman. Out in the distance, she could see Baelsar’s wall – their next challenge to overcome. “I’ve dragged half the watch here, see, and the sight of you might help remind ‘em why we bothered.”

“If memory serves, I have not seen many of you since the day of the grand melee,” a red-coated Miqo’te from the Maelstrom said. T’lorna thought her name was R’ashaht Rhiki, making her a distant cousin. “Having borne the brunt of your blows, may I say what an honor it is to stand at your side!”

“‘Tis heartening indeed to see the realm’s most stalwart defenders thus gathered in common cause,” Alphinaud said in his normal grandiloquent manner. “Speaking of which – what news from the Wall?”

“All has been quiet,” Vorsaile, the leader of T’lorna’s own grand company, the Twin Adders, said calmly. Just then he pressed a hand against the link-pearl in his ear and listened to a report. “Report! _What_? Seven hells…” he sighed before looking up at T’lorna and Alphinaud. “Fighting has broken out on top of the Wall! A full-scale assault!”

“So the Griffin has made his move,” Pipin muttered.

“ _Someone_ has…” Vorsaile replied sourly.

“And what’s that s’posed to mean?” Hilda demanded.

“The attackers, they – They’re wearing Grand Company colors,” Vorsaile explained.

“Impossible,” the Miqo’te woman muttered. “We gave no such order.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Alphinaud exclaimed as the idea hit him like a bolt out of the sky. “The Wall was never the Griffin’s target – it was bait. We have been goaded into deploying our armies nearby, thus lending weight to this deception!”

“If those uniforms were convincing enough to deceive my scouts, the Empire will surely think we’ve launched an offensive,” Vorsaile shouted. “This could mean war!”

“Even so…” Alphinaud mused, “this may yet be no more than a diversion. With the armies of the Alliance occupying the Empire’s attention, it would be comparatively easy for the Griffin’s supporters to slip into Ala Mhigo. He could then incite a rebellion amongst the populace which the imperial reserves would be hard-pressed to contain. Eorzea, meanwhile, would be plunged into chaos. T’lorna,” he said, turning to face his fellow Scion and Warrior of Light, “we must make for the Wall at once.”

T’lorna nodded in agreement. There seemed to be nothing to say to that given that it was the simple truth.

“What, just the two of you!?” Pipin protested.

“Our companions embarked on a mission to sway the Griffin from his course, and are likely halfway to his command post by now,” Alphinaud replied. “They will emerge in the midst of a raging battle and I do not mean to abandon them to their fate. It will be dangerous, aye,” he agreed, “but the confusions may work to our advantage. If we are careful to avoid the skirmishing, it may yet be possible to reach the Griffin… and if we can do that…”

Pipin nodded in defeated agreement. “Lady Hilda – might I ask that you have an airship ready to bear the Scions to safety?” he asked.

“Ha!” she laughed. “I don’t know who this _Lady_ Hilda is, Marshal, but you can count on me.”

“We must prepare for imperial reprisals,” R’ashaht said. “May the Navigator guide us through the storm!”

With that, T’lorna and Alphinaud nodded and headed towards the wall. She was not surprised to see Syris standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. A few other fighters stood with him and he gestured for her to join them.

“We’ve seen the fires on the Wall all evening,” he explained. “A few of us came to see if our services might be needed. Looks like you’re headed that way yourself,” the Elezen said calmly as he studied her face. “And it looks like, after this, you and I need to have a long chat about that rage burning in you.”

“Rage?” Alphinaud asked.

“Leave it be, Alphinaud,” T’lorna said evenly. “Your services are needed. Let’s get going.”

“The trail ahead should lead us into the shadow of the Wall,” Alphinaud gestured towards the trail they needed to follow. “As we have two objectives, I suggest we divide our forces. I shall make straightways for the tunnels, and attempt to intercept our comrades ere they stumble into a bloodbath. While I do so, I must ask that you and your friends scale the Wall. Know that I would not propose such a course if there were any other way. But the time for subtlety is past. Take your companions and cut a path through to the Griffin. Make him see reason – by any means necessary. Once we are free of the tunnels, we will make for your position with all due haste. And if everything proceeds according to plan, Hilda will then swoop in and spirit us all away to safety. I only pray that we have enough time.”

T’lorna nodded again and then fell in step with Syris. “New guys?” she asked softly as she glanced over her shoulder at the black mage and archer accompanying them.

“Just recently hired in,” he agreed. “I’m going to need you healing now.”

T’lorna sighed and dug through her pouch for the soul stone that gave her access to the powers of a white mage. She had mastered it and was working her way through the other healing arts – scholarship and astrology – but had been spending most of her time with sword and shield of late. Drawing on the soul stone, she felt her armor shift around her so that she was enrobed in her enchanted robes. Even her jewelry changed. Her staff appeared in its holster on her back. Refreshing her healing spells in her mind, she nodded and took up position behind Syris as he led them through Baelsar’s Wall.

~*~*~*~

They’d fought their way through the Garleans holding the Wall all the way to the airship landing where the Griffin awaited them. Along the way, T’lorna had spied dozens and dozens of people bearing the colors and arms of the three Grand Companies. She wondered how many of them were actually members who had been tricked into this battle and how many were pretenders.

But now, they stood with the Griffin facing away from them, his back to them. He wore the customary white leather cape with a hood pulled up over his head. The back of his cape was adorned with the purple crest and griffon that was both the symbol of Ala Mhigo and his own personal emblem. Over that, he wore scaled plate armor with a fine sword belted around his waist. He sensed their presence and turned to them, lowering his head and wresting his mask off his face.

“Ilberd,” T’lorna hissed, unsurprised to see the man who had betrayed her once before. He said nothing but threw the mask aside and unsheathed his blade, rushing to attack. Syris met him, his own great sword ringing against Ilberd’s blade.

T’lorna was glad of the practice in battles up the wall that let her pull off her healing spells without thought. She threw every offensive spell she could at Ilberd, her rage rushing through her. Once or twice Syris glanced over at her, worry clear on his face, but he was too busy keeping the Griffin from killing them all to do much more than that.

As he fought, four against one, Ilberd taunted them and threatened them. Each remark stoked T’lorna’s rage still hotter until, when he finally fell, defeated, she thought she might explode.

“Hold yourself together,” she heard Syris whisper to her. “We got here in time to stop him. There’s a chance we can salvage this debacle so long as you stay calm.”

“Calm,” she panted as she tried to rein in her temper. “I will stay calm.” She walked over to where Ilberd knelt, his wounds bleeding freely. Whether she was going to offer him healing or finish him off was an open question in her mind.

“You’ve beaten me, aye…” he panted. “But you cannot stop what I’ve begun. Behold – a glimpse of things to come!” he taunted.

T’lorna moved to the edge of the airship landing and glanced down as the Grand Company fighters continued to press against the Garleans. For a moment, it seemed as if they were winning and would soon hold the Wall itself.

Then war machines appeared, making short work of the Eorzeans – if Eorzeans they were. She watched, helplessly, as the Garlean machines made short work of the former victors. Screams of the dying, the stench of blood and viscera, of oil and fire, of levin from the fiendish devices, floated up to T’lorna, turning her stomach.

“Mighty Rhalgr…” she heard a prayer from one of the dying soldiers float up to her on the same winds that brought the stink of defeat to her nostrils. “Grant us… the _strength_ … to crush our…”

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what was starting.

“There you are!” Papalymo said, drawing her attention. He, Yda, and Alphinaud were running up the ramp to the airship landing.

“As you can see, our infiltrators did not elude me for long,” Alphinaud added. “Lady Yugiri is sending for an airship even as we speak.”

“What do we do!?” Yda demanded in a panic. “This is a massacre!”

“Heh heh heh heh…” Ilberd chuckled as he hefted himself to his feet. “How wonderful to see you… _Commander._ ”

“Ilberd!” Alphinaud spat. “I should have known. This has to end! It has to end _now_! Do you not see your countrymen dying? Have your ideals rendered you blind even to that!? Order the retreat, and we will help your soldiers to safety!” the young Elezen promised.

“ _Retreat_?” Ilberd laughed. “With the moment of my triumph so close at hand? You truly are a sheltered child, Leveilleur.” Then he reached back to his pouch and withdrew two objects that T’lorna had prayed never to see again. The Eyes of Nidhogg.

“Nidhogg’s eyes!” Alphinaud gasped. “No abyss is too deep for you, I see. But trust me when I say that such power was not meant for mortal hands!” he tried to warn Ilberd.

“How long have I struggled to reach this point!” Ilberd demanded. “My countrymen so inured to the taste of defeat, they no longer balk at its bitterness. Shouting my throat raw with rallying cries, only to be greeted with dull eyes and blank faces! My ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ in Ul’dah have surrendered to their apathy and their appetites. Were it not for the glint of Lolorito’s coin, I doubt even those here now would have answered my call!” he raged in despair. “‘Take back our homeland! Free Ala Mhigo!’ Hah! They’ll happily mouth the words, but they won’t spill the blood! You say no mortal should wield these eyes? Then I shall gladly become a demon! I will suckle on the souls of the hopeless, and liberate the homeland they no longer deserve!”

“What exactly do you mean to do?” Alphinaud demanded as if Ilberd’s plan was not plain for all to see.

“Did you hear their cries as victory was snatched away from them?” Ilberd asked. “Even with their dying breaths they cursed the Empire! Never has their desire for vengeance been so raw, so true! A god has no need of faith when _summoned_ by so pure a purpose!”

“Summoned!?” Papalymo muttered.

“You cannot mean to fight the Empire with a primal!” Alphinaud protested. “You know full well the danger – the _futility_ of relying on such power!”

“Oh yes, I know their limitations – which is why I will call upon a deity more terrible than the very black wyrm of the Calamity itself!” Ilberd raved.

“What… Here!? Now!?” Papalymo gasped as Ilberd drew upon the power of the Eyes for his summoning.

“Like hells you will!” Yda roared as she rushed at Ilberd, her fists aloft. He leapt lightly out of her way, landing adroitly upon the top of a nearby narrow pillar.

“An ending to mark a new beginning… My pain! My longing! You shall have it all!” he screamed as he threw himself backwards off the pillar, the Eyes glowing brightly with the power of his will. T’lorna watched in horror as the souls of the dead and dying seemed to coalesce around the Eyes, absorbed by their power. A fiery orb began to form and she could hear the sorrowful, terrible song that had once rung through the air above the fields of Carteneau as the orb transformed into a thing of light and power.

“This light, is it?” Alphinaud gasped.

“His death completed the ritual,” Papalymo said calmly. “The primal is taking shape.”

“Well, cant we stop it!?” Yda demanded, still panicked. “There must be something we can do!”

T’lorna watched at Papalymo gazed at Yda sorrowfully. “There is… one thing,” he sighed. He walked over to the edge of the platform.

“Wha?” Yda demanded. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going!?”

“Master Louisoix briefly contained Bahamut by means of a potent spell of sealing. I will now attempt to do the same,” Papalymo replied.

“But that’s impossible!” Alphinaud protested. “We would need hours to collect the necessary aether, if not days!”

“Ah, Alphinaud,” Papalymo sighed. “Though I concede it may not always be apparent, I was ever your grandsire’s finest pupil.” With that, he pulled the remnants of Tupsimati out and held it in front of him.

“Tupsimati, of course!” Alphinaud said in realization. “The staff still holds enormous power, broken or not.”

“Don’t you dare, Papalymo!” Yda cried. “I know how that spell works!”

Just then, an airship descended. Aboard it were Hilda, Thancred, and Yugiri.

“It is time to leave!” Yugiri shouted to those on the landing below.

“Quite right! Quickly, now! Off you go!” Papalymo agreed, keeping his voice light. “The further away the better!”

“No!” Yda protested. “If you’re staying, then so am I!”

“No, Yda!” Papalymo shouted. “There is a path only you can walk, and it must not end here – not like this!” Turning to gaze at Thancred, his pitched his voice to carry over the roaring din of the summoning. “Take her! Please, you have to take her!” Thancred sighed but nodded and leapt from the ship, rushing over to pull Yda over his shoulder and then rushing back to the ship.

“Ugh!” Alphinaud groaned as he followed suit.

“Wha – No!” Yda screamed. “Damn it, Thancred! Put me down! Thancred!”

Syris and the others quickly made their way to the airship, leaving only T’lorna standing on the landing with Papalymo. “This is one battle you cannot fight. Away with you. Go!” the Lalafell ordered the Warrior of Light.

T’lorna ground her teeth and closed her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, the Lalafell had the right of it. She could not die here. She had a son who needed her. With a heart filled with equal parts sorrow and rage, she ran for the airship, leaving Papalymo to his fate.

“Hilda! I think he means now!” Thancred shouted. With that, the airship lifted off, banked hard, and flew into the distance, leaving Papalymo behind. As the ship flew away, T’lorna watched with the others as twelve jagged daggers appeared in the sky, stabbed at the orb that housed the fledgling primal, and stabbed it. A shield surrounded it, encasing it much as once the moon Dalamud had encased and imprisoned Bahamut.

“He truly was Louisoix’s finest student,” T’lorna muttered as the airship headed for Gridania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I was able to get this chapter up this week. It meant having to split it into two, possibly three, chapters since this one is a monster but it does run up to the first meeting with Zenos and the crew heading to Kugane.


	43. Rage and Control (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'lorna learns some tricks to get her temper under control but it will take time to perfect them. And we see that some people just insist on getting under her skin. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Sighing and shaking her head, T’lorna recalled the way that the Scions had tried to calm Yda once the airship landed in Gridania. The woman had been inconsolable, mourning the lose of her dearest friend. No words seemed to exist that could comfort her. Idly, T’lorna found herself remembering the letter Raha had left for her and how it, along with Noah, were the only reasons she could drag herself out of bed some mornings.

Yda had neither letter nor child to comfort her. T’lorna felt her rage growing and the blood roaring in her ears. Then she felt Syris’s hand heavy on her shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said calmly but in a tone that brooked no argument. “It’s time I introduced you to Fray.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna stood in front of the person that Syris had introduced her to and held her piece. She had equipped the soul stone that gave her access to the dark knight powers. As she had done so, something inside her of seemed to fall into place. She didn’t like it.

“Feels good, doesn't it? Strange, maybe ─ but a good strange, I'll wager,” the strange woman wearing dark armor and a helmet that covered her face said. “You tapped into something primal. A power nestled within you, yearning to be free. As your understanding of this power grows, so too will your skill as a dark knight. You've done well ─ far better than I could have hoped, in fact. But there is still so much more to learn ─ so much further to go. I won't lie to you, T’lorna. The risks will only increase. So if you want to keep going, you have to trust in me. Can you do that?”

“I can,” T’lorna said calmly, calm for the first time in many days. It did feel good to unleash her dark side.

“Good. That's a promise. Circumstances being what they are, it might be best if we parted ways for a while. Think of it as an opportunity to hone your skills in my absence. But don't worry ─ we will meet again. When the time is right, I'll be waiting where we first met. Until then, your brother Syris can help you with the next steps. He and Geralin know their business. Each has faced the rage in their souls and learned to master it.”

Then, with that, the woman walked away.

T’lorna heaved a sigh of relief and returned to the tavern where Syris and Geralin were keeping Noah company. She had fought many small battles in Ishgard that day and had little desire to do more than have a meal, a bath, and then get some sleep. As she stepped into the tavern and spied the men sitting at a table with Noah gesticulating wildly to both of them as he told some story, T’lorna felt herself relax. Truly relax. For the first time since she had spied Urianger across the field from her, she felt her muscles loosen and her heartbeat remain steady. Noah spied her first and stood up in his seat, waving wildly.

“Mama! Mama! Unka Sy and Unka Gera let me have _beer_!” he announced.

“Well-watered, I hope,” she grinned as she plucked him out of the chair and sat down, holding him in her lap. Before entering the tavern, she had removed the dark knight soul stone and wore only her normal black sweater and black slacks.

“It was less than a sip in a full mug of water,” Geralin promised her. “We are not going to get the lad drunk. At least, not for a good many more years.”

“Yeah, the last thing we need is you coming after us with your temper up,” Syris muttered. “How did it go? Did Fray help you?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “She did. Tell me, how did you know I needed such help?”

“We may not have your Echo,” Geralin answered for his partner, “but we have a… sense… concerning you. When Syris began having nightmares about you lost in darkness, we realized that something must have happened. So, we sought out the Scions and had the tale from them.”

“We _discussed_ at length and considerable volume,” Syris sighed, “which of us could best help you. Finally, Geralin gave in when he realized that you already had enough training in the method that paladins use and that it obviously wasn’t helping you to channel your aggression very well.”

“Paladins are sworn to honor and the light,” T’lorna muttered. Next to her, Geralin snorted and shook his head. “You mean to tell me they aren’t?”

“Paladins take oaths though you are, like me, a free paladin. We uphold justice, yes, and do our best to protect the innocent. But we channel our rage towards that goal. Whenever I have been enraged, it has been because of injustice or because the innocent suffered needlessly. I have not walked the dark path that Syris had mastered. Nor do I desire to do so. I am his light and he helps me with my own darkness. That’s why we make such a good pair and a strong team.”

“Dark knights also seek justice. But we can and will use whatever means are necessary to achieve it. A free paladin would try to stay within the law. A dark knight will ignore the law – especially if the law itself is the cause of the injustice. And, we draw our power from our passions. Paladins are all about discipline. Dark knights are more… primal. That is why we gain access to more offensive abilities sooner. Our passion guides us. Paladins, on the other hand, can ultimately be more powerful but it takes them far longer to get there.”

“And if their hearts are greatly troubled or their spirits out of balance, they may never gain access to the full powers of the class,” Geralin added. “That is why Syris will continue to help you learn to respect, control, and use your dark side. And I will continue to teach you what Jenlyns and Solkzagyl have taught me. Both of them wish to meet you one day,” he added.

“Once you have learned all you can from Fray, I will introduce you to Sidurgu,” Syris promised. “He can help guide your steps further down the path. And, I would also advise you to see out the Marauders’ Guild in Limsa Lominsa. Geralin and I sometimes find it useful to draw from that class when we need to work things out for ourselves without being overly beholden to light or dark.”

“Rumors of a new order lately come to Eorzea might also interest you,” Geralin continued. “They use Garlean gunblades but are good. I have considered seeking them out myself just to see how their techniques vary from those I favor. They use a single-handed blade but no shield. Warriors and Dark knights use great two-handed weapons, as you know, which can be both weapon and shield at once, properly wielded.”

“Regardless, you should continue to explore the arts of war outside of those you already know,” Syris said, glancing at Geralin with a flat glare. “You are well-versed in the healing arts – I heard that you were named a master scholar and astologian. But, you need to find ways to safely bleed off your rage. Thaumaturgy, archery, the arts of the knives… these all can give you different outlets for when you are angry but feel no need to draw on your dark side. Remember that drawing on your own darkness does have its own dangers,” he finished with a shudder.

“Oh?” T’lorna asked, glad that her son was absorbed in playing with the flatware.

“Yes. I was nearly so lost once,” Syris said, gazing at Geralin fondly. “I went deep into a dark rage when I learned that my brother had died at the hands of the Monetarists and that the law in Ul’dah would avail me no justice. I set out to kill them all. I was fighting my way through guards and soldiers when Geralin finally stood up to me and forced me to match my blade against his.”

“And he won?” T’lorna asked.

“No,” Syris sighed. “I had him at my mercy. All I had to do was relax my hold on my blade and it would have cut clean through his throat. But it was the way he looked at me. There was no anger or disgust in his gaze. Just… admiration. Respect. _Desire_ ,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Well, you were the first person to ever best me so thoroughly in combat,” Geralin said with a blush. “How could I not admire and respect that?”

“At any rate, his look was enough to make me pull myself back, to pull my sword away, and to take his hand and let him lead me out of the mess I had landed myself in. His testimony spared me a term in the desert prison and, soon after, he and I joined Valhalla. One of these days, I will convince him to swear himself to me in the Ceremony of Eternal Bonding but, for now, I am content with things as they are.”

“I think we have run a little far afield,” Geralin grimaced as he glanced down to see Noah’s curious face going back and forth between his two uncles. “No doubt T’lorna does not wish to have to explain everything to her son tonight.”

“My people are free of the prejudices against such relationships as can be found among the Elezen,” T’lorna said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Noah said, not understanding at all. “My unkas married each other?” he asked. “Like you married daddy?”

“Something like that,” T’lorna grinned as she bent down and kissed her son on his forehead.

“I have lots of unkas,” Noah said after a long pause. “Why so many? You have lots of bruddahs?”

“Yes and no,” T’lorna said. “Unka Gera and Unka Sy were the first people I met when I came back from being away for a long time. They found me wandering lost and alone and gave me a place to sleep, food to eat, and took care of me. So, we decided that we were family even if we don’t have the same blood. Your Unka Tank has been almost as good a friend to me and so has your Unka Alphie. Your Aunt Stola has also been a very good friend who helped me with some of my early studies in conjury. Your Aunt Tata has always looked out for all of us and your Aunt Alisie is your Unka Alphie’s sister which makes her your aunt.”

“What about Unka Urijer?” Noah asked curiously.

“He… well, he has helped me a lot in the past,” T’lorna hedged, not wanting to explain to her son just why she was so angry with the Elezen man. “But, right now, Unka Urijer and I aren’t getting along so well because he did something that made me mad. Once I get over being mad, he and I will be friends again.”

“Oh. Okay. I like Unka Urijer. He talks funny but he tells good stories.”

“That’s enough of pestering your Mama,” Syris said with a mock growl. “Or did you forget what you wanted to show her about what your Unka Gera and I taught you today?”

“Oh. I forget,” the boy said as he wriggled out of his mother’s arms and onto the tavern floor. He walked a few steps away from the table and then looked around as if to make certain no one was too close to him. A few of the other patrons smiled at the boy and took steps back, ensuring that the toddler had all of the room he needed. Noah squared his shoulders and moved his feet apart so that they were square with his shoulders. He then thrust his little hands in front of him as if he held a great sword. He performed a clumsy kata, stumbling several times. He seemed unaware of his missteps, however, and enormously proud of himself for remembering all five of the movements.

“One day,” he said with a grin, “I be a great warrior and help you, Mama. I fight _all_ the bad guys. Mistah Tinien say he teach me to be dragon next.”

“Dra _goon_ ,” T’lorna corrected.

“Yeah. That. I fight with Drake and me and Drake be heroes one day. Then you can stay home. We wake up daddy and we all be happy,” he chirped. “We be the greatest heroes ever. Of all time.”

“I’m sure you will be,” T’lorna laughed as Noah toddled back over to her and climbed into her lap.

“That’s another reason for you to practice all the arts of war you can study,” Geralin grinned. “You’ll need to keep up with your son or else Noah will best you in a duel.”

“Yeah!” Noah cheered. “I will!”

“Then I shall practice every spare minute,” T’lorna said with a smile.

“Me, too!” Noah crowed. “Me pactice too!”

~*~*~*~

As T’lorna made her way down into the Rising Stones with Noah half-asleep on her hip, she felt… good. The training with Fray and the talk with Geralin and Syris had done much to help settle her spirit. She felt almost back to normal now. Opening the door and descending the stairs to the main room, she saw that Alisaie was waiting to speak with her. Urianger and Alphinaud stood off to the sides of the room, giving her time. She made a quick gesture towards the stairs that led up to her chambers and they left off, giving her time to go up and settle her son into his bed before she returned to business.

“‘Twould seem you bring ill tidings, Brother,” Alisaie said calmly as Alphinaud, Urianger, Tataru, Krile, and Y’shtola gathered around.

“Aye,” Alphinaud sighed. “Behind the Griffin’s mask, we found the grinning face of an old adversary… _Ilberd_. I know not how, but he had in his possession the eyes of Nidhogg, whose dread power he used to initiated a summoning ritual, even as we looked on…” With another heavy sigh, he explained about the battle atop the wall and Papalymo’s desperate attempt to corral the newly-summoned primal.

“By the Twelve,” Y’shtola groaned.

“I don’t understand,” Alisaie interrupted. “To attempt such a magick requires every onze of one’s aether. No one – not even Grandfather – could cast it and hope to survive…”

“Indeed,” Alphinaud agreed. “It was ever a last resort – as I am certain Papalymo was aware.”

“Thus did the pupil follow in the footsteps of his master… even unto the grave,” Urianger intoned. T’lorna was relieved to find that his voice no longer grated on her nerves overmuch.

“I have as yet been unable to explain how Ilberd came to possess Nidhogg’s eyes,” Alphinaud growled. “In the depths of the Sea of Clouds, a perpetual storm of water- and wind-aspected aether rages. No mortal could endure such conditions.”

“Then mayhap it was the work of an Asican,” Y’shtola ventured. “But now is not the time for idle speculation. Krile, I have need of your assistance.”

“I – yes. Yes, of course,” the Lalafell woman said.

“We must inspect the cocoon of light, and ascertain the state of the primal trapped within,” Y’shtola said. “Between our respective talents, I daresay we shall glean some measure of insight.”

“Understood,” Krile nodded. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to sense much through the barrier, but I shall certainly do my best,” she promised.

“As shall I,’ Y’shtola agreed. “Let us be about it, then.” Without another word, the two women turned and left the Rising Stones, intent on their errand.

“What, without so much as a ‘by your leave’!?” Alisaie demanded.

“Pray forgive Archon Y’shtola her brevity,” Urianger said, calmly reminding the young Elezen girl of the other women’s accomplishments. “She seeketh employment, les her grief deprive her of the will to act. A desire to comfort Yda doubtless compoundeth her unseemly haste. I, too, must contend with this grievous loss in mine own way. By thy leave, Lady Alisaie, I shall honor our fallen colleague through gainful study. There exist writings which may yet further our understanding of this cocoon of light.” With that, the elder Elezen bowed and took his leave. T’lorna said nothing, knowing that if she tried to speak to him at this moment, her temper would flare out of control.

“Mayhap I was too quick to judge,” Alisaie muttered to herself. “Surrendering to sadness and regret would be a poor tribute to Papalymo’s sacrifice.”

“Quite,” her twin brother agreed. “We must begin preparations to face Ilberd’s accursed creation without delay. What time we have was purchased at too dear a price for us to squander it.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna was glad to get a full night’s sleep with her son lying in his own bed just across the room from her. The next morning brought word that the Elder Seedseer and the leaders of Eorzea desired the Scions’ attendance at a conference in Gridania. With a quick promise to Alisaie and Alphinaud that she would be there, T’lorna hurriedly fed her son some breakfast and then packed a few of his things so that he could stay with her mother and father in La Noscea for a few days, if needed.

Once she had Noah settled with her tribe, she transported herself through the aether to Gridania and hurried to Nophica’s Altar. The conjurer who guarded the entrance let her through quickly enough. Once inside, she saw that she was the last to arrive. Already Ser Aymeric, Admiral Bloefhiswyn, General Raubahn, Yugiri, and Cid were there. The twins who had been waiting for her at the entrance trailed behind T’lorna. Once all were in place, the Elder Seedseer began to speak.

“Dear friends,” she said calmly, “pray accept my heartfelt thanks for your efforts in defense of Gridania’s borders. I would fain dwell longer on my gratitude for the support of the Alliance, but the situation at Baelsar’s Wall demands that we forgo such pleasantries.”

“According to our most recent intelligence,” one of the members of the Order of the Entwined Serpents reported, “the cocoon of light that formed in the air above the Wall remains undimmed and unbroken. After measuring the cocoon’s aetheric concentrations, Archon Y’shtola has confirmed the presence of a primal entity.”

“Hmph,” Raubahn snorted. “So we must assume that Ilberd’s thrice-damned god is indeed trapped within. And what news of the imperials? They are not like to ignore such a spectacle.”

“Sir. A Garlean airship was observed making an approach,” the officer replied, “but the vessel was destroyed when it drew near. The Empire appears to have made no subsequent attempts to reach the object.”

“The soldiers who witnessed the incident spoke of a ‘lance of light’ issuing from within the cocoon,” the Elder Seedseer replied calmly. “Of an entire warship being reduced to smoking ruin in the space of a moment…” she trailed off. “Veterans of Carteneau, meanwhile… likened the destruction to that wrought by the fiery wrath of Bahamut.”

“We could face another Calamity,” Alisaie sighed. Kan-E-Senna nodded in agreement.

“So the primal is awake, then?” Alphinaud asked. “Contained, yes, but for how long?” he wondered. “We must destroy it now, lest it break free!”

“Agreed,” Cid nodded. “There is, however, the small matter of how to get close enough to a being that swats airships from the sky as you would a bothersome gnat,” he pointed out. A long beat of silence followed as those gathered tried to come up with a method that would allow them to close with the primal without being destroyed.

Then came the sound of the gates to Nophica’s Altar being opened and footsteps as someone approached. They turned to regard the walkway. A pair of guards just at the end of the walkway barred the path of a golden-haired man.

“Is this truly so complex a puzzle?” he asked. “Or have you no _stomach_ for the obvious solution?”

“What in the hells are _you_ doing here!?” Cid demanded. T’lorna flinched as she recognized the man.

“A pleasure to see you too, Garlond,” Nero tol Scaeva said brightly. “Now, if you would be so kind as to explain to these good people why you should be _begging me_ for my assistance, that would be most appreciated.”

The guards glanced at the Elder Seedseer who nodded. They lowered their spears, allowing the Garlean through to join the conference.

“Who is this man?” Aymeric demanded.

“Oh, how terrifically rude of me!” Nero said without sincerity. “Nero tol Scaeva, former tribunus of the XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire,” he introduced himself with a slight bow. “These days, however, one might say that I am something of a free agent.”

“What do you want, Nero?” Cid demanded.

“I was _getting_ to that. Although you already know what I am about to propose, old friend,” Nero said with a shrug. “As you have rather belated realized, within that frail binding lurks an entity alike in strength to the great Bahamut. And the only force in existence which might conceivably content with such a foe is the very creation which captured the elder primal in the first place. I speak, of course, of Omega,” Nero said grandly.

“Omega?” Raubahn asked in confusion. “That hulk has been gathering dust beneath the plains of Carteneau since the Allagans breathed their last! And none alive knows how to wake it.”

T’lorna shivered. Her son and her husband might be able to gain control of Omega. But Nero knew only of her husband. And he knew that G’raha Tia, the last son – so far as he knew – of Allagan lie sleeping within the Crystal Tower. She shot at glance at Cid who nodded in silent agreement. Nero would _not_ learn of another descendant of ancient Allag from him. In silence, they waited to see what Nero would propose.

“I’m sorry,” Nero said falsely. “Do you understand who it is with whom you have the privilege of speaking? I am Nero tol Scaeva, master engineer – the mechanical genius who restored the Ultima Weapon to full operational capacity! And, as luck would have it,” he bragged, “I am graciously offering you the use of my considerable expertise.”

“And, what,” Cid argued, “you just expect us to accept? You’re a fool if you think your deeds at the Crystal Tower were enough to win my trust, Nero.”

The mention of the Crystal Tower had Nero staring at T’lorna. She met his gaze evenly, giving nothing away.

“Trust?” Nero scoffed. “You wound me, Garlond! All those years studying side by side at the Academy, sharing both trial and triumph. We were countrymen, once, you and I. But sentiment aside – have you a better solution?” he asked. “Or do you mean to send in your vaunted hero there, as you always do, and pray the world is not engulfed in flame?” T’lorna gave Nero a flat stare that gave away nothing of what she was thinking. “Let us approach the problem in a rational manner,” he suggested. “Does not the fact that Omega slumbers in stasis point to the existence of some overriding technology? A means of control?” he asked acerbically.

“I would ask a question, if I may – Nero, was it not?” Kan-E-Senna said coolly. “In the event that we succeeded in using Omega to shackle this primal in the manner you rpose, what then would become of it? Do we not risk repeating the mistakes of the Allagans?”

“Omega is but a tool,” he explained. “How we choose to employ that tool is entirely up to us. Of course, if you would rather leave it buried beneath Carteneau while you continue your petty squabbles above, then I suppose that is also your choice,” he taunted.

“Spare us, Nero!” Cid warned. “The Seedseer’s concern is a valid one. He who controls Omega wields the power of the gods. The very power which led the Allagans to destroy themselves.”

T’lorna shuddered. That power was the reason her beloved husband had shut himself away.

“And does it not fall to we engineers to prevent such misuse?” Nero asked sneeringly. “What was your company’s proud slogan? ‘Freedom through Technology?’”

“Hah,” Cid snorted. “A creed you follow, is it? What say you?” he asked T’lorna. “Do we take this villain at his word?”

“He makes a convincing case,” T’lorna muttered in response. Cid shrugged and shook his head.

“He makes me grind my teeth is what he does,” the silver haired Garlean sighed. “But I suppose we don’t have much of a choice.” He walked over to Nero and stared the other man down before turning to face the rest of the council. “Would the council be willing to entrust this matter to a pair of former imperials?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kan-E-Senna answered. “The task of restoring the Allagan relic will be yours. But the responsibility for its reawakening must remain with the council. Do we condone this course of action?” she asked the other leaders.

“Aye,” Raubahn answered. “‘Twould seem we do. Let the records show that we invest this contingent with the authority to enter Carteneau and take command of Omega. Cid, I appoint you leader of the expedition. Scions – I would ask that you assign some few of your number to escort Master Garlond and supervise the other one.” It was clear that he trusted Nero no more than T’lorna herself did. They nodded in agreement.

“We shall be happy to oblige,” Alphinaud responded for them. “The politics of Carteneau being what they are, I daresay our neutrality will prove useful in avoiding any unnecessary entanglements.”

“If I am not mistaken,” Alisaie added, “Doma occupies a similarly neutral position. Might we not persuade you to join the expedition, Lady Yugiri? If you suspected any foul play from Nero, you would be welcome to kill him.”

“My blade is yours,” Yugiri promised as she shot Nero a side-long look that took him in from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.

“Not a moment’s hesitation, eh?” Nero asked. “You’ll forgive me if I do not shake your hand.”

Within minutes, the council meeting was over and T’lorna was wondering just what in the seven hells had happened to have her agreeing to let Nero help them. She started to head out of Nophica’s Altar but Nero caught up to her and grabbed her arm. She jerked it out of his grasp and stared at him. He stepped back and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I just wanted to say that I heard that congratulations are in order,” the Garlean said with a grin. “You and your husband had a baby.”

“Leave my son out of this,” T’lorna said, her tone flat but bristling with violence.

“A son, was it? Did he inherit his father’s eyes?”

“Leave. My son. Out of. This.”

“Very well,” Nero sighed, sounding for all the world as if he were innocent and being much put upon. “I just wanted to offer my services to you. And your son. In case you would ever like to revisit the Crystal Tower again.”

“Nero, right now, all I want to do is get away from you. Leave me alone. Stay the hells away from my son. Don’t ask about him. Don’t _think_ about him. Understand?”

“As you wish, hero,” Nero replied in that same hurt tone as if he were the most misunderstood person in the world. “I will focus on getting control of Omega and leave you in peace.”

T’lorna stormed off, feeling her temper rising and knowing that she needed to do something to bleed it off before she completely lost control. Closing her eyes, she let her mind travel through the aethereal currents and transported herself to Mor Dhona where she could safely vent her frustration on the morbols that inhabited the nearby swamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this monster chapter wound up being a three-parter. I have most of the next section written but it may be late. I managed to cut the crap out of my thumb yesterday so typing is difficult. And painful. I'm hoping I can get the last few pages done this week but it's already taken me about an hour just to type this paragraph so...


	44. Rage and Control (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we learn a little bit more now about some of the reasons T'lorna's struggling with her temper. Also, we finally get done with the bridge section and will start moving into Stormblood proper next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna left her armor and great sword on the balcony outside of her chambers and closed the door. She had washed them down four times, three of those times using detergent, peroxide, and baking soda. The odor was much less noticeable now but the metal and leather needed to air dry before she could work the polish on them. For herself, she had taken a bath in the same mixture, scrubbing her hair, ears, and tail thoroughly. Two baths had been all required to rid herself of the stench.

Dressing in comfortable clothes, she made her way downstairs to find supper before a final, relaxing bath and bed. However, as soon as she reached the main room, she saw Y’shtola glance up and gesture for T’lorna to accompany her back upstairs to the other Miqo’te’s chambers.

“I have heard that your temper has gotten a little out of hand of late,” Y’shtola said bluntly.

“It has. Ever since Urianger abandoned my son I have been…”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what triggered it. But what I’m worried about is why you are still so out-of-balance. It’s been over two weeks since that incident. You should still be smoldering with anger at Urianger but not growing so outraged that you lose all control and slaughter your way through the local wildlife.” Y’shtola sniffed and shook her head. “By the way, did _any_ morbol survive your latest rage session?”

“A few,” T’lorna shrugged. “What of it? Syris and I had a long talk and he introduced me to an instructor who is helping me to channel my rage more productively.”

“So, you are studying the arts of the dark knights. That could be of benefit,” the white-haired Miqo’te said as she tapped a finger against her jaw. “However, I suspect there may be an underlying reason for your sudden rages. I would like to examine you to see if my theory is correct.”

“Y’shtola, you don’t need my permission to examine my aether,” T’lorna said in confusion.

“No, to examine your body. I’ll need you to disrobe.”

T’lorna shrugged uneasily but did as directed. She did not know what the other woman, blind to normal vision as she had been ever since being brought out of the Lifestream, would be able to see that she couldn’t have seen already. A thorough examination followed that left T’lorna blushing at being probed so carefully. Y’shtola bade her re-clothe herself while she seemed to mull over how to deliver the news.

“Your husband claimed you during your marriage, didn’t he?” Y’shtola asked calmly after T’lorna settled her shirt back over her chest. “He bit you on the scent glands that lie just where your neck and shoulder meet.”

“He did. And I bit him there as well,” T’lorna said uneasily. “What of it?”

“Such a claiming, especially when it’s done by both parties, creates a bond between them. Now, when your husband locked himself away in the Crystal Tower and returned it to a state of deep slumber, did you feel any kind of tearing sensation? It would have felt as if your heart, lungs, and abdomen were being ripped open and torn out of your body. The pain would have been physical and excruciating, from what I have learned. It would have taken days for it to pass and fade into a dull ache. Mention of your husband’s name would cause a similar ache for several years. Hence why I am so careful not to name him around you.”

“No,” T’lorna said slowly, casting her mind back to those awful days after he locked himself away. “I didn’t feel anything like that. Just a… heaviness in my chest. A dullness. As if some part of me no longer fit quite right.”

“I see,” Y’shtola sighed. “Then that explains why you are going into heat.”

“Heat?!” T’lorna protested. “But I’m not a breeding female! When I did not suffer a heat by my Ceremony of the Hunt, my father said it meant that he was right not to consider me part of the breeding harem for another tribe. Other tribes _had_ made offers for me – a shaman-born is rare among our people – but he had rejected them saying he did not think that I was intended to be part of a nuhn’s harem. He always intended me to wed but my mother and grandmother both said it would probably be difficult for me to have children since I wouldn’t go into heat.”

“But you _did_ go into heat,” Y’shtola muttered. “And you’re in heat right now. I can sense it and smell it. Like you, I was never intended to be part of a nuhn’s harem. I have never experienced a heat. But then, I have never lain with a man, either. I suspect that after you and your husband lay together, something changed within you that made you susceptible to the heat – but your bond with him means that he is the only man you could tolerate to resolve it.”

“Oh, godsdammit,” T’lorna growled. “So, I’m going to have to suffer from incontrollable rages for the rest of my fertile years? Which means most of the rest of my life since our women stay fertile from our first bleeding until nearly our seventieth year. All because my beloved husband claimed me and then decided to take a rather permanent nap?”

“More because you both claimed each other,” Y’shtola sighed. “Had he only claimed you, you might be able to tolerate a man of his bloodline resolving the heat. I’m not saying it would be easy or that you would like it much, but you would at least be able to tolerate it without attacking him. But with the mutual claim and the mutual bonding? Only your husband can touch you in such a wise, now. Did you realize that before you did it?”

“Not entirely, no,” T’lorna admitted with a sigh. “I mean, I heard the stories the same as you but the claiming was always more of a responsibility of a nuhn. My father has claimed only two of his wives,” she added. “My mother being one of them. I don’t think he was claimed by either, though. All I know of it is that it is the way a nuhn indicates that one of his wives is preferred above the rest of his harem. My father spends most of his nights either with my aunt, his first wife, or my mother. Only a handful of days out of the moon does he spend with the other breeding females and only if…”

“Only if they are in heat,” Y’shtola finished for her. “It is the same with my father. Oh, my mother was not one of his preferred wives and he has three – his first mate, given to him when it became clear he would be the next nuhn of the tribe – and a pair of twin sisters who would not be parted from each other. They are my aunts – my sister Y’mhitra is the daughter of one of the twins. Most nuhns only have a few women they claim in such a manner because those women will find it difficult to mate again if the nuhn dies. Therefore, the practice is to claim wives in such a while only if the nuhn is young and in good health. A nuhn might feel a strong attraction to another woman when he is older but, if he is nearing the end of his time as nuhn, he will not claim her.”

“Raha was never trained to be a nuhn,” T’lorna sighed. “I wonder how he knew how to claim me? I doubt he claimed any of his other lovers.”

“I doubt he did either,” Y’shtola said with a wry grin. “I remember your husband as a man who was more interested in seeking out knowledge than in proving himself in the bedroom. He did have lovers – Hyur, Elezen, Miqo’te; male and female – but he never showed much interest in them. For him, they were just ways to bleed off energy or to get people off his back since those of us who are of the tribes are expected to be ruled by our genitals.”

T’lorna groaned but nodded. The sheer number of stupid myths and rumors she had heard about her supposed sex life from those who knew nothing of the tribes still baffled her. Even Syris and Geralin had been surprised to learn that she was still a virgin until she married and mated G’raha Tia. “But what can be done about the heat? How long will it last? How often will it happen?” she asked instead.

“Ah, as to how long it will last – no more than half a moon. As to how often it will happen – you weaned Noah six moons ago?”

“Thereabout,” T’lorna said thoughtfully. “It was when his teeth came in and he kept biting me. I started feeding him regular food mashed-up then. As he ate more real food, he needed less milk from me. Eventually, he stopped nursing altogether.”

“And you got to suffer through the milk-fever,” Y’shtola nodded. “I remember that being nearly five or six moons gone. Luckily for you, your needs had adjusted so you only suffered for a day. I have known women who lost infants before weaning and they suffer over a week.”

“The Twelve be merciful. Still, how often will I suffer from this heat? And what can be done about it?”

“My guess is that you will go into heat roughly every six moons. I will try to keep a record of it and will start watching you for the signs from now on. As for what can be done about it… well, there are two ways to resolve a heat. The first you know but you can’t do anything about until we find a way to re-open the Crystal Tower. The other method… is violence.”

“Violence?”

“Yes. Violence. That is why I am rather glad to hear that you have begun to study the arts of the dark knights. I myself would recommend that you add the arts of summoning and of thamaturgy to that. Each heat will hit you differently, I think, and it would be better for you to have a variety of ways of bleeding off the energy and the rage. Channeling the dark side as a dark knight is one way. Losing yourself in combat against strong opponents as a paladin or marauder is another. Focusing on targets and challenges as an archer can help – I know a few women who use such methods when they do not want to have children just yet. Blood-letting is a time-honored way of resolving a heat. But you need to be careful. The rage of combat will overwhelm you; you won’t be able to help it. The rational part of your mind shuts down during the fury of a heat whether you be mating or fighting.”

“You can say that again,” T’lorna sighed as she recalled nearly three days of non-stop, frenzied lovemaking between her and G’raha in what must have been her first heat. “I could barely _walk_ once I came out of the haze. And I _still_ desired him, sore as I was.”

“I think that is normal,” Y’shtola said with an uncomfortable shrug. “I will ask, though. From what I observed of women in heat, they take several days of frenzied passion to resolve the heat. And, they usually walked away with a child growing within them. How or why you came into heat after mating with your husband, I’m not certain. But I am certain that you did. The mere fact of Noah’s existence speaks to that.”

“So, if blood-letting is the only way open to me to resolve the heat from now on,” T’lorna said, cutting to the chase, “what must I do?”

“I will ask to know for certain,” Y’shtola told her, “but I suspect you must give yourself over to your rage. However, you must struggle to cling to some semblance of reason while you do that. It must not be an easy road to walk. Still, you will fight with more ferocity, with more heat, with less care for your own life or well-being. You will scarcely know friend from foe when you fight during a heat. But that added furor will give you an advantage during such times.”

“I’ll… I’ll do what I can,” T’lorna sighed. “Thank you for talking so frankly with me. I know it can’t have been easy for you.”

“Nor for you, either,” Y’shtola laughed. “We two are the only ones of the tribe amongst the Scions. At least, until we figure out a way to rouse your husband from his slumber. I will research ways to help you. There may be potions or treatments that can prevent a heat or lessen the severity of one. Until then, just remember to try to channel the rage positively.”

“I will that,” T’lorna promised. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat, bathe, and sleep. I’ll wait to see what tomorrow holds.”

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna walked down to the main room for breakfast and was somewhat surprised to see all of the Scions, Cid, and Nero waiting for her. As she settled at a table near the bar to eat, Nero walked over to her. His posture spoke of scorn and disappointment but his eyes and toned seemed to desire another confrontation.

“Hm,” he snorted. “So these are the fabled headquarters of the Scions… I confess, I would have expected an order of self-proclaimed warrior-scholars to surround themselves with the fruits of man’s enlightenment. And yet there is not so much as a single piece of magitek in sight. It never ceases to amaze me how primitive you Eorzeans truly are.”

“Hmph,” Tataru snorted in return. “I’ll have you know that the Rising Stones is home to the very latest in magitek innovation. Wedge calls it the ‘Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster,’ and it’s the finest kettle I’ve ever had the pleasure to own.”

Nero stared at the Lalafell in stupefaction. Before he could reply, the doors opened and Alphinaud and Yda entered.

“We are returned,” Alphinaud said flatly. “Well, Yda and I, at least. Y’shtola and the others remained behind to continue their assessment of the binding magick.”

“There didn’t seem much point staying just for that, so I decided to come back with Alphinaud. Papalymo bought us this time. We shouldn’t waste it,” Yda said softly.

“By your leave!” a new voice shouted from the doors that led to the Seventh Heaven bar. T’lorna and the others glanced over to see a tall, broad Hyur man with grey hair, dressed in Eastern robes, standing there.

“Good gods,” Alisaie muttered. “That voice could fell a gigas…”

“This is the Rising Stones, domicile of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?” the stranger asked. “I enter at the invitation of one Lord Urianger!” He studied the gathering and then began to laugh. “Ho-ho! I spy you there, shadow walker,” he said, gazing at Yugiri. “You always were a hard one to find!”

“Yugiri?” Alisaie asked. “Do you know this man?”

The man ran down the stairs and over to stand in front of the Au Ra woman.

“Gosetsu!?” Yugiri said in wonder. “Why are you come to Eorzea?”

“In search of you, Yugiri! For days and nights did I row across the angry sea…” he replied. “I made port in good spirits, only for my own flesh to betray me over the trifling matter of an empty belly! Collapsed in the street like an unfed stray, I was, until Lord Urianger came to my aid. Over a most welcome meal, we spoke of the plight of Doman, and I learned of our displaced countrymen’s work to resettle this blighted land. ‘Twas blind fortune that I was able to locate you so swiftly! But now we must make ready to depart!” he insisted. “Our master languishes in dire peril, and Doma calls her daughter home!”

Yugiri closed her eyes and lowered her face in thought before answering. “It is not so simple, Gosetsu. There are obligations which bind me here…”

“You… You _refuse_?” he replied in shock. “Did you mislay your oath during your flight from our homeland? The laws of hospitality must be honored, but surely the vow to defend your master demands the greater obeisance!”

“It was our master who bid me guide our people to safe haven by any means necessary,” she replied calmly. “And it was the Scions you see before you who provided us succor and sanctuary when all others refused. Dire peril or no, were I to return without first replaying such ‘hospitality,’ our master would cut me down at the threshold.”

“Mayhap that is so…” the giant man sighed.

“There is more,” Yugiri added. “A crisis threatens all within this realm, Eorzean and Doman alike, and I go to play my part in its resolution. I will not bring shame upon our liege by abandoning my people or my duty,” she said firmly.

“How very noble of you,” Nero said sarcastically, eager to be done with this and on his way, “Now, win the name of honor, kinship, and – ah yes – _practicality_ , might I suggest we get this expedition underway? Or would you rather debate the finer points of duty and leave Omega to the _Empire_?”

“The Empire!?” Gosetsu shouted. “Yugiri? You draw steel against the curs of Garlemald?” She nodded in reply. “Then why did you not say so!?” he laughed. “My blade is oathbound to fall upon the ranks of the imperials wheresoever they march! Lead on, shadow walker. And may the enemy tremble at our coming!”

T’lorna glanced over at Yda and saw the woman’s face shining with determination.

“So we have to wake Omega up, right?” she said. “When do we start?”

“Yda, you…” Alphinaud trailed off, uncertain what to say. “Are you sure that’s…?”

“I’m sure, yes,” Yda nodded. “I won’t lie and say I’m completely fine, but I’ll feel a lot better if I’m doing something useful.”

“Very well,” Alisaie sighed. “I will remain here and continue coordinating our efforts with the Alliance. Alphinaud, mayhap you could go to Gridania and assist Y’shtola and Krile?”

“A fine suggestion,” Alphinaud agreed as he bowed and then turned to leave on his assignment.

“The rest of us will form the Carteneau expedition party,” Cid said. “Nero and I will focus on rousing Omega, while T’lorna, Yda, and our Doman friends take care of security. The _Excelsior_ is by the lake just outside town. We’ll leave as soon as everyone is ready.”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later, the airship landed in Azys Lla. T’lorna could remember the last time she had ventured to the floating continent and had fought the primals that the Allagans had imprisoned within it. Thoughts of Unukalhai, the young man who had been destined to save the Thirteenth but had failed, filled her mind. She knew he was doing well enough. He had joined the surviving Students of Baldesion. She received regular reports on him and letters from him. His adoption into her tribe had done much to help him heal and begin to let go of the machinations that the Ascians had embroiled him in.

She shook her head and glared at the Allagan ruins. Her son could operate some of them. Or, at least, his presence made some of them more cooperative. She prayed that he would not remember that when he grew older and that Cid and the rest of the Ironworks crew would shield Noah from the knowledge that his bloodline gave him some kind of strange power over these ancient devices. Glancing up at Nero and seeing the golden-haired Garlean studying her intently, T’lorna realized that the only way to keep her son from being exploited down the road might be to ensure that Nero was not left breathing good air much longer.

The airship landed and Nero led them off, down the gangplank, and over to a terminal. He began fiddling with it, muttering to himself.

“Now where was the…? Ah!” he said in triumph. The device lit up and three screens appeared. Nero studied them before speaking again. “I’ve enabled the teleporter. One brief jump, and we shall arrive in Omega’s control room.”

“How convenient,” Cid growled. “You’ve been here before.”

“Of course,” Nero agreed. “‘Twas no easy task threading a path through all the skirmishers… But how could I ignore the existence of such a fascinating toy! You may trust that my preliminary examination was suitably thorough.”

“Trust?” Cid scoffed. “Aye. I trust your appetite for technology.”

Just then, a new voice rang out from across the teleport padding.

“I chase down a suspect airship, and who should I find but the traitor, Cid Garlond!” the man shouted. T’lorna recognized him from earlier encounters. Grynewaht, a Garlean loyalist. “Searching for something, engineer?” he taunted. “Something big? It’s close, isn’t it!?” He threw his head back and laughed. “It’s like all my namedays have come at once!”

“Of all the scouts the Empire could have sent…” Nero sighed. “Take care of that brute, will you!” He reached out and touched the screen and was transported to the control room.

“Godsdammit,” Cid growled. “I can’t let Nero tinker around in there by himself. Sorry to leave you to it – but I daresay you’ll manage without me. This clod has no idea who he’s dealing with…” With that, Cid followed Nero, leaving T’lorna and the rest to the battle.

At first, Grynewaht ordered his underlings to remain out of the fight. He was certain that he could take down the two Domans, Yda, and the Warrior of Light singlehandedly. T’lorna drew on her rage and engaged the Garlean fighter. Her attacks met his with a sweet savagery that made her blood heat up and her soul sing. T’lorna reveled in the spilled blood, the screams of the wounded, the cries of the dying. She fought, letting the darkness in her soul flow forth as she cut through the Garleans and wheeled to attack their leader.

“What are you fools gawping at!?” Grynewaht demanded of the soldiers he had ordered to remain back. “Don’t just stand there – your captain is in danger!”

The Garleans around the field rushed in, pressing the attack. T’lorna turned her attention to them, taking them down one by one. Finally, only Grynewaht and a few of his guards remained. He pulled back and stared at her and the others.

“Surrender!” he shouted. “We have you outnumbered!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” Yda shouted back. T’lorna glanced around and saw that, indeed, they were well outnumbered. However, her soul did not shrink from the challenge. Instead, it seemed to swell at the thought of spilling yet more blood. Already the ground around her was slick with blood and viscera. The stench of death smelled sweet in her nostrils as she inhaled deeply and glared at the man who thought he could dare to take her on. Just then, her linkpearl sounded.

“Are you _still_ playing with those soldiers?” Nero sighed in her ear. “I _suppose_ I can lend you one of my toys – but only if you promise to give it back.”

T’lorna squinted in annoyance, wondering just what in the seven hells the Garlean was muttering about. Then, a bright red magitek fighter appeared in the distance. It flew up in the air, twirled, and then landed at her feet.

“Behold!” Nero said into her ear. “The _Red Baron_! Now end this nonsense!”

With no further thought, T’lorna climbed up into the seat and took control of the Garlean war-mech.

“What the…” Grynewaht snarled in protest. “No one told me they’d have magitek armor! Er… forward! For the Empire!” he shouted to his underlings. Then he ran off, clearly trying to escape the field while he sacrificed those who followed his orders.

“The honorless cur thinks to abandon his men?” Gosetsu muttered in anger. “I shall see that he shares their fate! Pray attend to the rest of his minions!”

While the Doman samurai set off after his own quarry, T’lorna turned her attention on the soldiers. Using all of the abilities that the Red Baron offered her, she slew Garlean men and machines with no thought. She could feel the thrill of combat heating her blood. The death of each of her enemies gave her almost as much pleasure as laying in her husband’s arms. On and on she fought, killing men and destroying machina until, finally, only Grynewaht remained. His re-inforcements were gone, slaughtered on the field of combat. T’lorna leapt out of the magitek device, eager to kill the man with her own hands.

Finally, he collapsed at her feet, his chest heaving. “Y-You haven’t seen the last of me!” Grynewaht roared as he heaved himself up. “Mark my words! It’ll be _you_ who rues this day!!!”

With that, he ran off, using the magitek boosters in his boots to speed him away. T’lorna glared after him. She wanted to see him dead at the end of her blade! But then Yda grasped her shoulder, calling her back to her duty. The four hurried over to the teleporter and sent themselves into the control room where Cid and Nero waited. They walked over to where the two men stood in front of some kind of monitor. Nero was studying a sheet of parchment in his hand while Cid manned the controls.

“Temporal stasis disengaged,” Nero said calmly but with a hint of excitement in his voice. “All systems operational – Garlond?”

“All clear on this side!” Cid shouted. “It’s waking up…”

The control room shifted around them, panels opening and new control devices springing up. The panel in front of the two Garleans changed shape as a monitor appeared over it and a single button in the shape of an hourglass appeared.

“Remarkable!” Nero hissed. “Omega’s sensors immediately detected the presence of the cocoon even at this distance. They must have been set to scan for sources of energy exceeding certain magnitudes.”

“I still don’t see any means to control the machine directly,” Cid replied calmly. “It seems to have been designed to act wholly autonomously… Hmm…” he mused. He turned to face Nero. “Once we release Omega, we can be fairly certain it will attempt to capture the primal at Baelsar’s Wall. Assuming its mission is successful, our only option at that point will be to reengage its stasis system and put it back to sleep.”

“And should the machine happen to misbehave, we’ll simply initiate an emergency shutdown,” Nero replied. “I confess, we don’t yet have a _complete_ grasp of its capabilities, but I’m certain the details will not elude us for long.”

“Well, I understood less than half of that,” Yda muttered. “So – my question to you is: are we doing the right thing?”

“Well, what do you think?” T’lorna asked.

“What do _I_ think?” Yda repeated. She gazed off into the distance and then sighed. “All right. Step aside, Cid. Is this the thing I need to press?” she asked as her hands hovered over the hourglass button.

“Um, yes. That’s the one,” Cid replied uneasily.

“You gave too much for us to waste this chance, Papalymo,” Yda whispered. “So, this is for you… and me.” With that, she slammed a fist down on the button. Alarums around the room began to sound and a new monitor sprung up, showing them all what was happening in the distance.

“Yes!” Nero laughed. “Fly free, my pretty! Show us what you can do!”

“The launch sequence has begun. Omega is loose,” Cid said coldly.

T’lorna watched as Omega flew towards Baelsar’s Wall. The cocoon holding back the new primal split and wings appeared, just as Bahamut’s wings had broken out of Dalamud years ago. The new primal flew free, spinning, dancing, and keeping out of range of Omega. The Allagan weapon chased the primal, stopping when it summoned a flood of aether that spread like a tidal wave out over the land. Omega sent flares and bombs after the dragon but the creature dodged and wove, avoiding the attacks deftly. Through the sky, the pair flew, Omega in pursuit of the dragon and the dragon determined to destroy everything in its path.

Then, Omega activated its defenses, its beam meeting the dragon’s breath in midair. An explosion of pure light filled the screen and T’lorna shuddered as she watched Omega encase and contain the dragon again.

Back in the control room, she stared at Yda. The Hyur watched the battle, watched the device take control of the primal. Then the screens went dark.

“Hm?” Cid muttered. “Omega has stopped transmitting. But that shouldn’t be. I didn’t engage the stasis system.”

“And what does this signify?” Gosetsu asked. “I have little understanding of these contrivances.”

“The launch went exactly to plan,” Nero snarled, “but all signals emanating from Omega have ceased. This may indicate any number of things, but we will need to join the Scions out in the field if we are to ascertain which one.”

Cid touched the controlling device again and then sighed. “Right, I’ve ordered the malfunctioning beast to go to sleep,” he explained. “That should prevent any unfortunate mishaps. I suggest we make our way back to Gridania.”

Then the others turned and left, leaving T’lorna and Yda alone in the control room.

“Omega destroyed the cocoon…” Yda sighed. T’lorna’s eyes widened as she watched the Archon brandings on Yda’s neck flash and vanish. “Papalymo’s spell is fading. It was bound to his aether, you see… and if the connection is broken…” she sighed sadly as she reached up and touched her neck. With that, Yda turned and headed towards the exit. T’lorna followed her wondering just what in the seven hells was going on. An Archon didn’t just have his or her markings _vanish_ like that. The tattoo was for life. Nothing could erase it. Nothing! But yet, Yda’s markings were gone. Sighing, she let the others guide the way to Gridania where, she hoped, she could learn more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not planning to detail out everything in Stormblood since a lot of the stuff going up to the trip to Kugane is just fetch quests. I'll be hitting the high points of Stormblood as best I can.


	45. A Time to Reflect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, the truth about Lyse comes out and, in the wake of seeing what Omega can do, T'lorna starts to understand a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna watched as Yugiri and Gosetsu hurried after Yda just moments after the airship landed in Gridania. Part of her longed to rush after the woman as well and to see the sight where the cocoon holding the primal had once been. She did not envy Yda her grief and hoped that the woman would find a reason and a way to rise above it and move forward.

She also hoped that the Scions would be wise enough to encourage her to do just that. However, from what little she had seen of Yda up to this point, T’lorna had a feeling that the woman was going to insist on trying to power her way through her grief and use it to fuel her rage until it wore her out. After all, T’lorna had done something very similar after losing G’raha.

“She’ll be safe enough with those two watching over her,” T’lorna muttered to herself as she followed after Alphinaud to Nophica’s Altar where the council waited for their report.

“My friends,” Kan-E-Senna said warmly as she saw them approach, “full eagerly have we awaited your return. Few indeed could have discharged the duty entrusted to you, and most humbly do we thank you for seeing it done.”

“You are too kind, Elder Seedseer,” Cid replied. “As I recall, we as good as demanded the right to try. But tell me: how did the battle unfold? We succeeded in waking Omega, aye, but we lost contact with the weapon shortly after it launched. From our position in the control room, we were blind to all that followed…”

“What words could do justice to such a scene?” muttered the Admiral. “None of my choosing, that much is certain. But I can give you the facts: the cocoon hatched even as Omega arrived, and from its midst rose a great dragon. The pair duly set about each other in the skies over Gyr Abania.”

“The primal’s might defied belief – it seemed the very heavens would be rent asunder by the force of its blows,” Aymeric added. “And it wielded such magicks as I have never seen… and hope never to see again. The battle raged on with no end in sight, until both combatants were engulfed in a blinding flash of light. When the radiance faded, I saw the pair fall motionless from the sky, coming to rest somewhere on Ala Mhigan soil. I will not speak for the rest, but to my eye it seemed that each had landed a fatal blow upon the other…”

“While most among us could think only of Bahamut when looking upon the primal’s form, the Domans were heard to whisper the name ‘Shinryu.’ It would appear that the being resembles a creature of Far Eastern legend, and we have found it convenient to refer to it as such,” the Elder Seedseer said after Aymeric trailed off. “This Shinryu’s fate – and indeed, that of Omega – is yet unknown. We have, alas, no eyes on the Gyr Abanian side of the border.”

“Aye,” Raubahn agreed. “Which is why we have sent our main force, under the command of Marshal Tarupin, to capture the Wall. With the imperials in disarray, we have the perfect opportunity to secure Gridania’s border, and assess the aftermath of the impact. I myself will join the marshal and his men when the councils is adjourned.”

“Well, that explains a few things,” Cid sighed. “I’ll wager that ‘flash of light’ coincided with our loss of contact… Let you wonder, we quickly reengaged Omega’s stasis systems, so even if it _has_ fallen into the Empire’s lap, it will be of no use to them – save perhaps as a statue.”

“Correct. Without _me_ to guide their efforts, it would take them decades to decipher Omega’s core functions, if they managed it at all,” Nero preened.

“Such reassurances do much to calm our fears – yet the relic’s fate is but one of several concerns,” the Elder Seedseer said softly.

“Indeed,” Aymeric agreed. “I humbly submit that the time has come for us to make contact with the Resistance representatives in Gyr Abania. Though Ilberd has forced our hand, it would seem only logical to seek an alliance, given the inevitability of imperial retaliation. And by working in concert, it is not impossible that Ala Mhigo might finally be wrested from Garlemald’s grasp.”

With that, the council ended and the various leaders and attendees began to disperse. T’lorna sighed and thought about returning to either the Rising Stones or going to spend the night in La Noscea with her son. However, before she could move, Alphinaud pulled her aside.

“You must be exhausted,” he said. “I would ordinarily suggest that we retire directly to the Rising Stones… but I wonder if we might first make a small detour?” he asked.

“Alphinaud, I really need to see Noah,” T’lorna sighed. “Whatever this detour is, it better be small and swift.”

“Y’shtola and the others have gathered at Amarissaix’s Spire, and I imagine that you, too, would be interested to see what has become of the Wall now that the cocoon is gone,” Alphinaud explained.

“Fair enough,” T’lorna nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

~*~*~*~

The trip to where they had originally met before attacking the Wall was quick. No sooner had they arrived than Y’shtola, Krile, and the others gathered around Alphinaud.

“My friends,” he said. “I cannot well express how glad I am to see you both unharmed. They say that Omega’s clash with the primal shook the very firmament.

“You need not have worried,” Y’shtola assured him, “the battle took place far above the ground. We were able to observe in relative safety, though I am given to understand that there were casualties on the far side of the Wall.”

Krile, however, was downcast and spoke with sadness making her voice tremble. “It was like watching a nightmare unfold before our very eyes. Ilberd’s primal manifested in the form of a colossal dragon – a being of pure violence. It burst forth from the cocoon with such terrible force…”

“That such a horror should spring from the eyes of Nidhogg comes as no surprise,” Alphinaud said. “Nor do I wonder at its form. Ilberd all but announced it in the moments prior to his death. Plainly, it was his dying wish to visit a second Calamity upon the Empire.”

“And I am quite certain the abomination would have obliged,” Krile agreed, “had it not found itself outmatched by Omega. Gods… I am no stranger to the works of Allag, but even I was unprepared for the machine’s furiosity. It beggared belief.” Then, just as if she realized what she had said, Krile gazed over at T’lorna, her face stricken with horror. T’lorna sighed and lowered her gaze sadly. After seeing the havoc that the Omega weapon had so easily wrought, the Warrior of Light was beginning to really understand why G’raha had sealed up the Crystal Tower and ensured that it could not be forced open easily. She vowed to herself that if Nero ever breathed word of her son’s existence or bloodline to the Empire, she would make the Garlean beg for death. She also began to realize that she needed to figure out a way to ensure that her son, if ever threatened, could be kept safely out of the hands of any organization that sought to use his lineage for their own empowerment.

“And how fares poor Yda in the midst of all this?” Alphinaud asked softly, pulling T’lorna from her thoughts. “Have you spoken with her?”

“She is upon the platform,” Y’shtola replied, “lost in thought. We deemed it best not to disturb her, but mayhap she would welcome some company after all. Shall we?” Leading the way, the white-haired Miqo’te guided the other three up the tower to where Yda stood looking out over where Papalymo had fallen.

“The light’s gone,” she said softly, sorrowfully. “It was all we had left of him…”

“Yda…” Alphinaud whispered.

“I don’t blame anyone,” Yda said. “I knew what was going to happen. I knew the spell Papalymo meant to cast would drain away his life force – I… knew that it would only buy us a little time…” Then, she did something that T’lorna had never seen her do. She reached up and took off her mask and her cap, letting her hair fall down to the middle of her back and turning to face the others directly.

“Yda, there is no need to explain,” Y’shtola said softly.

“But there is,” Yda insisted. “I can’t hide in Papalymo’s little shadow anymore and I shouldn’t hide behind my sister’s mask.” She seemed to steel herself to reveal a great secret and then spoke again. “Twenty years ago, on the day the Empire marched into Ala Mhigo, I was still just a child – not even five summers old. My father had been one of the leaders of the revolution. He had fought to overthrow the made king, Theodoric. And my sister had fought alongside him. She was strong and kind, and always knew what to do. But when the Garleans came, everything changed. My father went to war against them too, and I never saw him again. After that, I remember a lot of running. My sister dragged me for malms and malms until we came to the city of Sharlayan. That was where she met Master Louisoix. He introduced her to the Circle of Knowing, and she eventually became an Archon.”

“She was your inspiration,” Y’shtola said. “Is that not why you took up her mask and her name? Or did you simply mean to continue what she had started?”

Yda’s sister looked at the other woman in shock for a long moment before replying. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you? That I wasn’t Yda.”

“Of course,” Y’shtola said with a shrug. “We all recognized you at once. ‘Twas Papalymo who persuaded us to maintain the charade.”

“It was silly to think I could fool you. I knew that even then. But I… I sort of… decided not to know,” the woman sighed. “Yda died six years ago, on a mission to smuggle refugees out of Ala Mhigo. They say she was overwhelmed by imperial soldiers when she stayed behind to save a little girl. She was son strong… There must have been a lot of them.”

“Why did you never tell me?” T’lorna asked softly. Clearly she had been the only one taken in by the deception.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. My real name is Lyse. When Papalymo brought me Yda’s mask, it was meant as a keepsake,” she explained. “But I decided I wanted to be his new partner; to keep alive all the good that she had done. I didn’t want to _become_ Yda, exactly… At the time, though, I still didn’t know who I was myself, and it almost seemed easier to play the role. Papalymo agreed to help, of course… but it was never what he wanted for me. He wanted me to walk my own path. And those were his final words to me. The Archon’s mark he gave me is faded, and my last excuse along with it.” She stood in silence, her face downcast and her gaze abstracted, for another long moment before she lifted her face and stared directly at the Scions. “So, this is it,” she said. “Whatever I choose to do from now on, I do as Lyse. And I choose to continue my family’s fight. I want Ala Mhigo to be the country that Yda and my father always wanted it to be!”

~*~*~*~

The next morning when she woke before her son, T’lorna had much on her mind. She was arguing with herself over whether or not to leave Noah with her tribe for a while longer or to risk taking him into Ala Mhigo with her. She was also struggling with how she would help him to learn about his Allagan heritage while getting him to understand that he could not use his status as a descendant of the Royal Family to open the Crystal Tower just because he wanted to know his father.

She also needed to know what to do to hide him from the Empire or any organization that decided to try to coerce him into doing just that.

“Whatcha doin’, Mama?” Noah asked sleepily as he rubbed his red eyes and yawned before stretching and leaping out of the bed. “I not see you yesterday.”

“I got here after you were asleep,” she explained.

“You stay long?”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, baby, or whether or not I can take you with me when I leave. Do you mind being here with your grandparents and cousins?”

“No,” Noah shrugged. “I like here. I can play here. I want you here, though.”

“Well, baby, Mama has a job she has to do which means that she can’t always be here. But, I promise to try to visit as often as I can if I have to leave without you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed. “We eat breakfast now?”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“Eggs, ‘maters, and bacon!” Noah shouted.

“Go scrub your teeth good. Sing the song I taught you while you do it so you know you scrubbed them long enough,” T’lorna grinned as she rose, pulled on a long tunic, and then moved to the firepit outside to cook up the requested breakfast. She kept one ear quirked back to the hut, listening and laughing as she heard Noah’s muffled singing.

“I had a little chicken who wouldn’t lay an egg. So I poured hot water up and down his leg. And the little chicken hollered and the little chicken begged and the little chicken laid me a hard-boiled egg.”

T’lorna snickered to herself at the silly song that she had been taught and had taught her son. It was just long enough to ensure that a child brushed their teeth well enough to avoid the tooth-rot that happened all too often. She wondered, then, if G’raha had known any silly songs to pass on his sons and daughters.

Which pulled her thoughts back to what she had been pondering off and on for a while now. How to ensure that the technology of the Allagans remained out of the hands of the masses until the masses were ready to make use of it responsibly and understood at least more than a tenth part of how it worked. Cracking open the eggs and putting them in the skillet over the grill, she wiped her hands and reached up, dialing the sequence that would connect her linkpearl to Cid’s.

“Hey Cid,” she said. “Can you come to these coordinates? We need to talk. And bring Nero.” She rattled off the coordinates to her tribe’s meeting place.

“It’ll be this afternoon before I can get away but we’ll be there,” the Garlean promised. “Anything I need to bring?”

“No. We just need to talk before I get too busy with the Scions and you get too caught up in the search for Omega.”

Satisfied that she had done what she could for now, T’lorna turned her attention back to preparing breakfast and thinking about what she and Noah would do until that afternoon.

~*~*~*~

“You seem… calmer,” Cid said carefully as T’lorna guided him and Nero through the forest path to her tribe’s village. She had already warned her father and uncles that she had invited two Garlean visitors. Only the fact that Cid was known to be a defector who had aided the Eorzean alliance kept the tribal elders from demanding that the men be blindfolded before being led to the village.

“Yes,” T’lorna said softly. “The thing that caused me to be so out-of-balance emotionally is passing. It will happen again, periodically, but now that I know what to expect, I can handle it more productively.”

“Is this some strange alchemical reaction among your people?” Nero asked with a slight sneer. “Some woman’s problem?”

“Nero, I can gut you quite easily,” T’lorna said warningly. “You’re here because you may be able to help me with something that is troubling me. But if you’re going to do nothing but act out, I will escort you right back to the mana-cutter you arrived in and bid you farewell.”

“He’ll behave,” Cid said as he shot a warning glare at the other man.

“I’ll be good,” Nero promised. “Some of the most promising and talented engineers I have ever met have been Miqo’te. I just know very little of your people; especially of those of you who have chosen to remain true to your tribal history instead of moving into the modern era.”

“You know all you need to know about my people,” T’lorna said firmly. “Unless you were to wed with one of us, there is no reason for me to tell you anything beyond what you know. Now, please,” she continued, struggling to keep her voice light and somewhat welcoming, “be welcome to the village of the Condor tribe. Follow me to my hut where we may speak in private.”

“Noah seems to fit right in here,” Cid chuckled as he entered the village and saw the boy wave at him from where Noah was playing among his cousins.

“He enjoys being around his cousins,” T’lorna replied as Noah came running over to hug Cid’s leg.

“Unka Cid!” Noah exclaimed. “Why you here?”

“Your mother asked me to come,” Cid answered evenly, ignoring the somewhat disgusted look and snort from Nero. “She wants to ask me something. We’re going to your house to talk while you stay out and play with your cousins.”

“Okay! We have supper. Mister Nero come too?”

“Sure, lad,” Cid laughed. “We’ll stay over for supper if you want.”

“Okay. Bye Unka Cid!” Noah said as he turned and scampered off back to play with his cousins.

Cid and Nero followed T’lorna to her hut and then sat down on the padded cushions on the floor inside. She offered them tea and they sat chatting pleasantly for a few moments before she set her cup aside, signaling that she was getting down to the business that had called them here.

“I need to know everything you know about Allagan stasis technology,” she said flatly.

“Well, all we really know at this point is what it does,” Cid said carefully. “We know that it holds an object or creature in a stasis field that prevents time from passing for them. It generally requires that a creature or any living thing put in the field be cast into a kind of sleep beforehand. That’s why your husband gave himself a few minutes to reach his chambers before the stasis effect kicked in.”

“Do you know how to generate a stasis field? How to keep it powered for as long as you need it?” T’lorna asked.

“Not yet,” Cid admitted. She glanced over at Nero who, uncharacteristically, stayed silent. “We did find some stasis tubes and small chambers obviously meant to hold people in Azys Lla. But, we’re not certain how to connect them to a power source or how long they would last.”

“Or if the person put in them would survive the change in status,” Nero added softly.

“Is this an area you’re planning to research soon?” T’lorna asked.

“Not particularly,” Cid replied, baffled at the question. “Why?”

“I fear for my son,” she sighed. “After seeing what Omega did and knowing what it could do, I have begun to truly understand what G’raha feared so greatly that he was willing to break my heart and his own to keep me and the world safe. But my son carries his father’s bloodline and heritage. You know as well as I do that some of the devices in Azys Lla and some of the ruins in Mor Dhona activated and responded to Noah’s presence. He has no idea how to control them and, with the Isle of Val gone, I don’t know where to go to do the kind of research that G’raha had done about his heritage. All I know is that my son could be persuaded or forced to activate Allagan technology that could be used to… to…”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that happening easily,” Cid tried to comfort her. “Noah is well-protected here by your tribe. And, very few outside of those you trust know about his heritage. I promise you that Nero will not go flapping his lips about it and he’s the only one who knows that you don’t trust.”

“True,” T’lorna sighed. “But still, we should research this in case it is ever needed. If not for Noah, then for his descendants who carry on the line. From what little I understand and have been able to discover, all his children and grandchildren will have his bloodline. It’s dominant over others. We can keep it secret for now but, in time, it will become known that the Allagan Royal family has been reborn.”

“We’ll have to do our best to keep it secret,” Cid muttered. “But we’ll research stasis technology just in case. I’ll have some of the Sons of Saint Coinach look into it and send some of the best engineers from the Ironworks. Maybe you could ask Krile if any of the Students of Baldesion would like to contribute.”

“If any of them ask or protest,” Nero added, “we could tell them that it’s part of learning to understand Allagan technology better so that eventually the Crystal Tower can be reopened. We can promise the Eorzean Alliance that any of our findings will be shared with the city-states. That should make it more palatable for them to let us continue on this bent.”

“That’s not an entirely terrible idea,” Cid said brightly. “We can start with stasis and power technology and stay away from weaponry for now. Perhaps, in time, we’ll be able to make use of weaponry without causing the same kinds of problems and outcry that magitek caused. Though… gods… I almost wish we had someone as brilliant as the young Emperor Solus to help us. His discovery of the ceruleum engine’s ability to power large, heavy, and thickly armored devices and his redesign of it is what made Garlemald into a power to be feared.”

“Solus is on his deathbed from what I heard before I left,” Nero muttered. “But you have me instead. I’m twice as brilliant as Solus was.”

“I just hope you’re brilliant enough,” T’lorna sighed. “It may take just such brilliance to keep the world safe from technology that could easily destroy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, T'lorna is starting to fear what could happen if her son falls into the wrong hands. She's not going to lock him away, though. She just wants to know if it would be possible to do something like that as a precautionary measure.


	46. Brood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize that I forgot to take this out of draft status last week. I am so sorry for that!
> 
> Anyhow, in this chapter we get a glimpse of the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Even though she knew that time was against them, T’lorna decided to spend some additional time with her son. He had been left with her tribe for over a week while she fought various battles and he had only had time with her in the evenings for nearly a half-moon before that as she worked to master her temper. She _needed_ this time with her son while she was more even keeled, and he needed this time with her.

So, she took him to Anyx Trine.

“Drake! Drake!” Noah squealed as soon as they materialized inside the large structure.

“Noah! Noah!” she heard the young dragon squeak as he wheeled and dove to greet his “brood-brother.” T’lorna grinned, glad she had made a dozen bacon sandwiches before transporting herself and her son here. “Brood-brother Noah!” Drake shrieked. “Meet others!”

She glanced around, not surprised but still stunned to see nearly a dozen little dragons flapping around the space. The nest which had been filled with eggs was now empty. The space around the aetheryte was filled with flapping dragonlings. Vidofnir stood off to the side, watching her brood fly and play, amused.

Drake, the dragonling who had claimed her son Noah as his brood-brother, flew down to squat in front of the young Miqo’te. Noah bent down, wrapping his arms around Drake’s neck. The young dragon flicked his tongue over the scar that ran from Noah’s eye to his mouth – the scar he had given his brood-brother in a moment of confused fright. Noah giggled and then tried to greet the rest of his brood brothers and sisters.

“It is good to see you again, Warrior of Light,” Vidofnir said as T’lorna watched the younger dragons play carefully with their soft-bodied brood brother. “Drake has been eager to see his friend again.”

“I’ve been busy,” T’lorna sighed. “I wish that we could come and visit more often. I may ask Lord Fortemps if he can look after Noah for a while and request that he bring my son here more often.”

“I did not speak to criticize,” Vidofnir explained with a light laugh. “Merely to let you know that my firstborn adores his ‘older brother.’ Soon, my sire will travel to Anyx Trine to meet and greet his grandchildren. That’s partly why Drake is so excited to see his brood brother. He thinks that the reason my sire has not come yet is because the full brood is not here.”

“Young dragons seem to measure time like mortals,” T’lorna observed.

“They do,” Vidofnir agreed. “But our sense of time changes as we reach maturity. To one like my grandsire, events that happened five thousand years ago are just as recent as those which happened last week.”

“I wish I could sit and pick your grandsire’s brain about all of the events that he must have witnessed. The rise and fall of Allag, the War of the Magi, the great freezing…”

“Oh, I am certain he could tell you much but it would not be of interest to you. You’d like to know about the history of other mortals. My sire did not mix with mortals very often and his knowledge would be of things that dragons did during those times. He might have been aware of the rise and fall of as mighty an empire as Allag but I doubt he knew much more than that it existed.”

“An angle I had not considered,” T’lorna sighed. “If only there were some way to pull memories from the soul or the Lifestream. Think of how much we could _learn_ if we could do that.”

“For one who has proven themselves to be wise like yourself, such knowledge would be good. But for many mortals, if they had access to that kind of knowledge or power, they would be creatures to fear indeed,” Vidofnir pointed out.

T’lorna considered that for several moments and nodded. If someone like Solus zos Galvus had access to such knowledge, they could build an eternal empire that would keep every civilized being under their domination. The mere thought of such a thing made T’lorna shudder. She respected the Garlean emperor as a mechanical genius but his success in building an empire and his tendency to conquer every land he came across and strip the natives of their identity and traditions in exchange for being more than mere slaves well overshadowed his mechanical talent.

Before she could share her thoughts, a great shadow covered the sky above the shrine. T’lorna frowned slightly and looked up.

“Well, it seems that Drake was right,” she laughed as she watched Hraesvelgr descend.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna watched with amusement as Hraesvelgr struggled with accepting her son as his grand-drake’s brood brother. Drake’s insistence that Noah be included and the fact that his fellow broodlings went along with it, confused as to why Noah was treated differently just because he was soft-bodied instead of scaly.

At length, Hraesvelgr seemed to just include Noah while ignoring him. This tactic seemed to be working while Hraesvelgr recounted the most important tales of his brood’s history. When he began the story of his love for the mortal woman, Shiva, Drake snuggled close to Noah, wrapping his tail around Noah’s back as Noah lightly stroked Drake’s scaly spine. As she watched the boy and his friend, T’lorna began to realize just how difficult it must have been for Hraesvelgr to get over the loss of Shiva. In time, Noah would grow old and die while Drake would continue to live on. He would never forget his brood brother but he would wonder why Noah did not live as long as he and his scaly brood brothers and sisters. She glanced over to see Hraesvelgr look sadly upon his grandson and the mortal he was entwined around as he finished telling the story of Shiva’s sacrifice.

“We be friends like that, too,” Noah whispered to Drake as he gave the little dragon a light peck on the snout. Drake licked Noah’s cheek in return and T’lorna thought she had never seen anything sweeter. Neither child was old enough to really understand the kind of love between Hraesvelgr and Shiva, but they did understand friendship.

“I hope that you two will continue to be friends, to prove that mortals and dragons can be friends and allies,” Vidofnir said warmly, gazing at her father. “And to give us dragons a chance to understand how different mortals are from our own kind – something that we have told ourselves we understood but which we truly do not.”

“What mortal mean?” Noah asked in confusion. T’lorna glanced over at Vidofnir who looked abashed. “It bad?”

“No, sweetheart,” T’lorna said softly. “It means that you will grow up, grow old, and eventually die. Your soul will go into the Lifestream to rest before it returns to live in another body and learn more.”

“Drake not have soul?”

“No, he has a soul,” T’lorna said quickly. “But Drake will just continue to grow and grow and he will live as long as he wants. But while you might live as long as a hundred years, Drake will live a hundred, hundred, hundred years. But even if you only live a little bit of the time Drake lives, Drake will never forget you and I think that, when your soul comes back again, you will find Drake again and be friends once more.”

Noah appeared to ponder these concepts and, finding them too confusing, shrugged and began talking to Drake, suggesting that they go outside and play.

“That’s one crisis averted,” T’lorna sighed with relief as the boy and dragonlings hurried outside to play whatever game they could come up with.

“I did not stop to think that Noah would not know he was mortal,” Vidofnir said apologetically. “It is instinctive in all dragons that we know we will live forever unless we are killed. This is not the case with mortals?”

“No, it is not,” T’lorna explained. “We don’t know that we are mortal and doomed to die until we are older and can understand what death is. Noah knows that he will never see Papalymo again but he doesn’t understand that Papalymo is dead. He knows he will never meet his Uncle Haurchefant but, again, he does not understand that he is dead. To him, he never knew Haurchefant so the man never existed for him beyond the stories he has heard. He only met Papalymo once so his loss will not scar Noah. But, if I were to vanish, then Noah would begin to understand death a little more. He would probably spend time trying to find me, thinking that I was just somewhere else that he could go to and visit. It would take years before he really understood that my body was gone and my soul had returned to the Lifestream and that, even if, somehow, he were to find my soul again, I would no longer be the same person I am now. That the person who is his mother is gone forever.”

“Just as the woman who was my great love, my Shiva, will never stand before me,” Hraesvelgr’s voice rolled across the two women. “That is the great tragedy of mortality.”

“It is also something of our strength, now that I think on it,” T’lorna said slowly. “We lose everything we are when we die. But since we know our lives are short, we do more with them. Look at your own kind, great Hraesvelgr. Dragons change little. They build few structures. They invent little. Your population grows slowly with a new clutch being born only every few centuries. But mortals? We live short lives. We breed quickly. Our population oscillates between booms and busts. Because of that, we build more structures. We invent more things to give ourselves a better chance to survive. To make life easier for our children. We change the world greatly and quickly. To you, it seems chaotic but to us it is simply reality. We may pass unnoticed beneath you,” she added, “but we accomplish much more than you.”

“And for that reason, I shall accept thy son as one of my brood,” Hraesvelgr replied calmly. “T’noah Tia will ever have a place among my people. I will continue to teach him what he can learn whenever he visits. My brood-daughter will inform me of when he is here so that mayst come and instruct him in the lore and history of the dragons. Should he ever display the talent to channel our power, he will be trained in that as well.”

“A generous offer, mighty Hraesvelgr,” T’lorna said, bowing slightly. “But remember that my son is young and has a different way of viewing time than your people.”

“I remember well how differently my beloved Shiva viewed things,” Hraesvelgr chuckled. “I will have patience with thy son because he is and always shall be my grandson. His children shall also be of my brood and welcome within our aeries and lands. But now I have a question for thee, Warrior of Light. Not long ago, you assured me that my brood brother Nidhogg’s eyes had been destroyed. However, just recently, I felt his rage wash over the land anew.”

“Alphinaud and I did pry Nidhogg’s eyes from Estinien’s armor and cast them into the abyss,” T’lorna replied. “But someone ventured down deep into the crevasse and retrieved them. They were given to a man named Ilberd who used them to try to summon the primal Bahamut not very long ago. Using Allagan technology, we were able to interfere with the summoning, but it is not yet known if your brood-brother’s eyes survived or were consumed. As soon as we know more, I will send word to you. And, if the eyes still survive, I will bring them to you so that the dragons can control them and keep them out of mortal hands once more.”

“I can yet sense my brood brother’s power,” Hraesvelgr said. “When you find them, if you cannot destroy them completely, return them to me and I will ensure that they are never again used to destroy innocent lives.”

~*~*~*~

“Mama?” Noah asked later when they had returned to the Rising Stones to get some sleep.

“Yes?”

“Are we different from dragons?”

“We are,” she nodded. “They have wings and we don’t. They can fly and we can’t. But we can get into small rooms and they can’t.”

“I know that stuff, Mama,” Noah said with the put-upon air of one who does not want to put up with being patronized. “But why you all talk about mortal and immortal and that stuff? What that even _mean_?”

T’lorna sighed. She scrubbed a hand over her face and tried to think of how to explain these concepts to her son. Noah waited as patiently as a child not yet two years old could. Finally, she shook her head.

“This will not be the last time I say this to you, but you’re too young to understand the answers to those questions. When you’re older, you’ll understand what those things are. I know that you want to know now,” she added when she saw him scowl, “but I could sit here for the next month explaining it to you and you would not understand because you haven’t lived long enough.”

“Why you say I can’t understand?” he pouted. “I not stupid.”

“No, but you are just a year and a half old,” she sighed. “There are some things that you won’t understand until you are older. You don’t know how to read yet, either. You don’t know how to channel your aether. It’s got nothing to do with you being stupid but instead everything to do with you simply not having enough experience in life. I promise you, Noah, that when you are old enough to understand, I will explain it to you and help you to understand but that is going to be a long time from now.”

Noah sighed gustily but had learned not to argue with his mother. He curled up on his pillow and let his mother cover him with a blanket before rolling over to listen to her tell him another story.

When Noah finally fell asleep, T’lorna watched him for a long time. She knew that, over the next few weeks, Noah would find other things to think about but that the things he had heard today would stay with him. She just hoped that Noah would not be overly upset or stressed about it.

~*~*~*~

While T’lorna struggled to help her son to understand that he wasn’t ready to understand mortality, back in Anyx Trine, another mother struggled to help her son understand the impact that the concept would have on him. Drake was snuggled up under Vidofnir’s wing, trying to figure out why she and his grand-sire thought of Noah as being different beyond just having a softer body.

But the concept of a being existing for such a short, finite amount of time confused Drake no matter how Vidofnir tried to explain it.

“So, Noah won’t be here to be my friend very long?” Drake asked.

“I’m afraid not, little one.”

“But why not? He’s my _brood brother_ ,” Drake protested. “He might be soft bodied but he’s still my brother.”

Vidofnir sighed. “He is your brood brother in every way that matters but because he is soft bodied, his body will give out long before you reach full adulthood. That is simply the fate of the soft bodied; to live for a short time and then be gone forever, never to return.”

“But I _love_ Noah! Can’t you or grand-sire Hraesvelgr do something so he can stay with me? The way that Shiva stayed with my grand-sire?”

“Shiva’s memory is all that remains to your grand-sire,” Vidofnir said softly. “Her spirit has long since moved on, been reborn in another body, died again, and returned. That is the great tragedy of the soft bodied. But, it is also their greatest strength and part of why they are a threat and a danger to us.”

“Noah would _never_ hurt me! Or any of us!” Drake protested.

“No, he would not,” Vidofnir agreed. “Nor would his mother nor many of the other soft bodied mortals I have met. Indeed, they would give up their lives to help us. But there are some soft bodied mortals who covet our power and who wish to live as long as we do. And, to do that, they would kill us and take our eyes to use our power to lengthen their own lives.”

“Noah would never do that. But if I _gave_ him one of my eyes…”

“He would still die in time,” Vidofnir said firmly. “And he would never take one of your eyes from you. Not even to save his own life. You must accept that your friend will be your friend for as long as he lives and that, when he dies, you will honor his memory and teach your broods of the goodness that some soft bodied mortals have within them. In that way, Noah’s memory will live on and a new bond between dragon and mortal can be forged.”

“…I still want Noah to be my friend for all of my life,” Drake sighed softly. “Why does he have to die?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that, my son,” Vidofnir sighed. “I truly wish I knew.”

Drake sighed and lowered his head so that he could wrap his tail around his body and sleep. He did not want to think about his soft bodied brood brother not existing one day. Instead, he resolved that he would spend as much time with Noah as he could so that he would have lots of memories to share.

As Vidofnir watched her first-born fall asleep, she bent her head and licked his scales affectionately. She had heard the stories of her sire’s great love for a mortal and had never understood them. Now, seeing how much Drake loved his brother and the bond they shared; a kind of bond that was rare between even brood-siblings – she thought that she could understand. Noah’s life would be a bright spark for Drake: a spark that would fade into darkness almost before it could be appreciated. But, like a shooting star falling from the heavens, its beauty and brightness would be remembered long after it faded.

And, that flickering, quickly-gone spark would ignite the fire that would keep dragon and mortal allied for many, many dragon life-times. Of that, she was certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I needed a break from the Stormblood stuff and to get a start on some things that are going to play out later. That's what this chapter is.


	47. Into Gyr Abania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, still setting a few things up. I'm going to do a bit of a time-skip in the next few chapters instead of recounting all the goings-on in the first part of Stormblood. Also, the next few chapters may be shorter than normal (ten pages instead of fifteen to twenty-five) because I have bruised the crap out of my collarbone and typing hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

The next morning when T’lorna woke up, she grinned down at her still-sleeping son. Noah had one arm flung over his head and his mouth wide open as he slept. He looked like a child who knew, down to his very marrow, that he was safe and protected and that those whom he loved and who loved him would be there when he woke up. Rising carefully from the bed, T’lorna went through her normal wake-up routine of scrubbing her teeth, washing her face, brushing her hair, ears, and tail, and then dressing for the day. By the time she was lacing up her shoes, Noah began to stir and she went over to tickle him awake with his favorite game of Tickle Monster.

“Stop it!” he laughed as he batted ineffectually at his mother’s hands.

“But I can’t,” she growled, pitching her voice low. “I’m the Mean Monster!”

“Mean monster, mean monster,” he chanted, using the chant that Urianger had taught him to end this game, “leave me be! Mean monster, mean monster, give Mama back to me!”

With that, T’lorna pretended to collapse and waited for a slow count of ten before sitting up and grinning at her son.

“You saved me, T’noah Tia!” she laughed. “You made the Mean Monster leave!”

“Yeah! He’s gone for a long time now. One day, I’ll learn how to beat him up so he never comes back!”

“But then we won’t have our tickle wars,” T’lorna pretended to pout.

“Oh,” Noah said, thinking furiously. “Well, maybe I’ll learn to call him back so we can play Tickle War. But one day, Mama, I’m gonna _win_ the Tickle War.”

“I’m sure you will,” she grinned. “Now, come on. Let’s get ready for breakfast.”

Noah sighed but did not argue. He let his mother help him get out of the bed and then watched as she made the bed up again. He did not understand why she did that. After all, they’d be pulling the sheets and blankets back tonight when they went to sleep. Why did she bother straightening everything and pulling the sheets and blankets tight, removing all the wrinkles from them? Why did she pound and straighten the pillows? It did not make any sense to him. Still, he did feel some satisfaction when she picked his Daddy Doll up from the floor and tucked him into the bed. It had been a few weeks since Noah decided he was too big a boy to carry his Daddy Doll everywhere and had begun leaving him tucked into bed during the day.

Then, his mother turned to him and picked him up and carried him into the washroom and stood over him as he scrubbed his teeth while he sang the silly songs. Once he was done with that, she took the washcloth and scrubbed the skin off his face before setting that aside and getting out the brushes. She brushed his hair, his ears, and his tail, and then dressed him in regular play clothes. He wondered why all of his clothes were dark colors but didn’t really care. They were his clothes. He shrugged and then let her take his hand in her own as they walked down the stairs to find breakfast.

Unka Alphie, Aunt Alisy, and Aunt Yda were all downstairs eating breakfast. Noah climbed up into his usual seat and let his mother strap down his tray without complaint. She went and got his breakfast and handed it to him, tucking a big napkin around him, and then fetched her own food and sat to speak with the others. Noah listened to them speak, understanding each word but still having no idea what they were talking about.

“The question is,” Unka Alphie said, “how will the Empire respond to the disappearance of Omega and the primal…” Unka Alphie talked like he didn’t know anyone was around him. When he looked over to see Noah’s Mama sitting across from him, he jumped the same way that Noah did when Mama snuck up on him. “Oh, I didn’t see you there. Forgive me. Word from Baelsar’s Wall is proving long in the coming, and my mind cannot help but stray to grim places.”

Then Aunt Tata came running down the stairs. Noah watched her as he played with his breakfast porridge.

“Alphinaud! A message from the Alliance!” she shouted.

“It’s about time!” Unka Alphie said. “Pray summon the others at once.”

“Yes, sir!” Aunt Tata said. She left to do that while the others finished eating. By the time Noah was done with his breakfast and had been taken back upstairs to wash his face again, Unka Urijer, Aunt Shtola, Miss Krile, and Unka Tank were there. Noah was eager to play with his family, but his mother told Gran F’lhaminn to keep an eye on him, so he was left in the main room with his toys to keep him occupied. But one day, he told himself, he would be big enough and strong enough to knock Unka Tank down and then he could go in and listen to the grown-ups talk about their grown-up things. Until then… he would play and grow strong until he understood all the things that his Mama said he couldn’t understand yet.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna watched her son shrug off his exclusion while the rest of the Scions filed into the main office to discuss matters and plan their next move. She hoped that he would not grow frustrated and become more of a handful for F’lhaminn. When she closed the door behind her, she heard Alphinaud begin to speak.

“General Aldynn reports that his forces have secured the breach in Baelsar’s Wall.”

“And what of the primal and Omega?” Y’shtola asked.

“There is still no sign of either at this time. He writes that they will begin a more thorough investigation shortly,” Alphinaud replied. “And, as expected, he wishes to petition the aid of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

“As expected?” Lyse asked.

“The Alliance’s decision to capture a part of Baelsar’s Wall is… open to interpretation,” the young Elezen explained. Lyse closed her eyes, considering the words.

“The Wall serves to demarcate imperial territory, Ala Mhigo included, from the rest of Eorzea,” Alisaie explained. “To an observer, the Alliance’s actions could be seen as a prelude to invasion.”

“Indeed,” Alphinaud said with a nod. T’lorna grinned at the way that the twins seemed to finish each other’s sentences so easily. “And the Alliance has no wish to be branded invaders.”

“You’re saying they won’t fight for Ala Mhigo?” Lyse said in surprise. “Even after everything that’s happened?”

“Not without the consent of her people, no,” Alphinaud said calmly. “Make no mistake, Lyse – the Alliance is in complete agreement that the Empire must be purged from Eorzea. However, they will not set foot in Gyr Abania until they have formally secured the consent and cooperation of the Ala Mhigan opposition.”

“They would have us act as intermediaries?” Y’shtola guessed.

“Precisely,” Alphinaud nodded. “The Scions are uniquely qualified to serve in this capacity – that is to say, Lyse is, given her personal connection to the Resistance. Who better than you to broker an agreement between the Alliance and the people of Ala Mhigo?” he said, casting his gaze on Lyse. “Assuming you are willing, of course?”

The look of angry frustration left her face and Lyse smiled. “Of course I am,” she said. “You know I’d like nothing more!” Alphinaud nodded and grinned as if the answer had been foregone.

“As for who should accompany you on said diplomatic mission… I had a mind to volunteer myself.”

“Well, that covers the talking part,” Lyse agreed dryly. She turned to face T’lorna next. “But you just know there’ll be trouble along the way. Are you available?”

T’lorna sighed and nodded. As much as she wanted to do nothing but spend time with her son, she knew that she had a role to play regardless.

“Thanks,” Lyse said. “It means a lot, knowing you’ll be there.”

“I too shall accompany you,” Y’shtola said. “Such endeavors are seldom hampered by a surfeit of healers.”

“Good point!” Krile agreed. “Allow me to offer my services as well.”  
“I have spent quite enough time here of late,” Alisaie said, “so I’ll be coming, but we will need someone to keep an eye on things. I trust you have no objections?” she said as she turned to regard Urianger.

“None, my lady,” he said with a bow. “Gladly shall I continue to serve as caretaker of the Waking Sands, and there keep watch for signs of primal and Ascian activity both.”

“As capable as my learned friend undoubtedly is, there are some troubles that may prove too much for a single Scion – on account of which, I mean to stay,” Thancred offered. “Also, I have a feeling that T’lorna will feel better if I am around to keep an eye on Noah.”

T’lorna nodded and grinned at her friend. “I hope he won’t be too big a handful for you. Right now, he’s trying to figure out what ‘mortal’ means after our last visit to Anyx Trine. If you can figure out how to explain it to him, great. If not, just tell him that there are some things he won’t understand until he’s older.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Thancred chuckled. “I can still remember some of the questions that Minfilia had for me that left me gaping for a way to answer them that she would grasp.”

“It is settled, then,” Alphinaud said to wrap up the meeting. “Let us each see to our preparations.”

~*~*~*~

As she finished packing away the last few things she would need in Gyr Abania, T’lorna watched Noah studying her. He had retrieved his Daddy doll and was holding him tightly – a habit he had whenever his mother had to go away from him for longer than a few days.

“Unka Tank will be here to play with you,” she told Noah for the third time. “He promised to start teaching you how to use knives for fighting and how to wrestle. He wants to help you get big and strong enough to knock him over so you can join us one day instead of always being left behind. And, once I’m certain that things are safe enough where we’re going, I will come back here and get you and take you there.”

“I know,” Noah sighed softly. “I want go with you now.”

“Baby, I wish you could. I would be so much happier if I could take you with me instead of leaving you here with Unka Tank and Gran F’lhaminn. But I’m going to a place where there are soldiers fighting every day.”

“Why they be fighting?”

“Well, one group of soldiers thinks that they should be in control of all the people who live there and another group thinks that they should be the ones who have the control and get to tell people what to do,” T’lorna said, trying to explain the concept of war to her son. “One group of soldiers is from way far away and the other group is from the people who live in the land they’re fighting over. Mama and your aunts and uncles are going to try to help the soldiers who are from the land and try to convince the other soldiers to go back to their own homes. But, the other soldiers might not want to do that so we may have to fight them and beat them up.”

“They not hurt you?” Noah asked as he realized that his mother could get beaten up.

“No,” she said quickly as she saw his eyes watering. “I’m too strong for them to beat me up. But they might try to hurt you if you were there and they found you while I was out dealing with other soldiers. So, that’s why you’re going to stay back here with Unka Tank and start learning things from him.”

“Okay,” Noah sighed. “Will learning from Unka Tank make me know what ‘mortal’ mean?”

“It might help you to understand it, yes,” she sighed. “But, it might not. Still, you do what your Unka Tank and Gran F’lhaminn tell you to do. And mind Aunt Tata as well. I’ll call every evening on the linkpearl to tell you a night-night story and hear about your day.”

“I be good,” Noah said as he stood up on the bed and walked over to fling his arms around his mother’s neck. He kissed her cheek and hugged her tight. “I promise I be good. You be good, too, Mama.”

“I will,” she said as she hugged him and kissed him back.

“And no get beat up by soldiers. You promise?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said with a grin. “Come on, now. Your Unka Tank is probably wondering if we got lost up here.”

With that, T’lorna led her son downstairs and then headed to Gyr Abania wondering if she would be able to keep her promise to him not to get beat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're getting into Stormblood proper now. Don't worry that I'm going to recount every cut scene or quest. I'm not. But I am setting things up so that certain events can play out later. ;) Just remember that anything that is in a story is there for a reason.


	48. Promises Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'lorna gets humbled and has to consider the wisdom of making promises...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna sat gasping as she clutched a hand against her ribs. Thus far, the fight to free Ala Mhigo was not going well for them. Though she, Alisaie, Lyse, and Alphinaud had spent the better part of two weeks running errands for the locals in Gyr Abania and proving that they were there to help, there were few who were ready and willing to stand up to the empire.

And there were those among the Ala Mhigans who had decided to throw their lot in with the Garlean Empire. T’lorna shook her head wondering just why anyone would side with the enemy as she thought about the fierce woman and her wolf pack of fighters.

Glancing over to where Y’shtola and Lyse lay still recovering from both their wounds and the hasty healing, she tried not to think about the monster in armor who had humbled her so easily. He had turned back each of her attacks and seen through every one of her tactics and plans. He had fought with a strength that seemed far beyond mortals and a swiftness that seemed impossible for one so large and so heavily armored.

And he had found her worthy of only contempt. That hurt almost as much as the bruised ribs she’d suffered. With one word, he had wounded her more deeply than the pains she had taken in fighting him.

“Pathetic,” he said with a sneer.

“Zenos,” she growled his name. She’d heard of him, of course. He was the great grandson of the Garlean emperor Solus zos Galvus. Little was known about his father and his grandfather other than his grandfather had died just after Zenos’s father had been born.

“Seven hells…” Raubahn said as T’lorna struggled to push herself up to her feet. She sensed someone kneeling down behind her and felt the flow of aether into her body, healing her wounds slightly.

“Shall we give chase, General?” a man asked.

“Nay. There has been enough death this day. See to the wounded,” the general ordered. The soldiers hurried off to obey orders and Raubahn knelt down next to where T’lorna still struggled to sit up. “You all right, lass?” he asked.

T’lorna bit her lip against the pain as she forced herself to her knees. “I tink my pide mighta taken a knock,” she said breathlessly, slurring her words on a jaw that was badly bruised.

“‘Tis no ordinary foe could best the likes of you,” Raubahn said in reply. He helped her to her feet and then let her totter over to where Alphinaud and Krile knelt working to heal Y’shtola and Master Kemp.

“Don’t you die on me, Y’shtola!” Lyse pleaded with the unconscious woman. “Hold on!”

“Don’t worry!” Krile reassured her. “It’s going to be all right! Alphinaud! Master Kemp is all yours!”

“Understood,” Alphinaud nodded as he continued to pour his energies into healing the older Hyur man who was the leader of the Ala Mhigan Resistance in Rhalgar’s Reach.

“Don’t just stand there gawping!” Krile shouted at T’lorna. “Hold her down while I work!” T’lorna struggled back to her knees and worked to help hold down Y’shtola while Krile probed at her, taking in the extent of her injuries and doing what she could to heal them. Finally, the Lalafell woman stood. “The worst is passed, but without the proper facilities, I can do no more.”

“Master Kemp too would be better served in the infirmary,” Alphinaud agreed as he stood up. “Let us take them there without delay.”

“Give us a hand, would you, Lyse?” Krile asked the woman who was kneeling next to Y’shtola. “I know you must be exhausted, but there will be others who need our help. Leave these two to us and look to the other wounded,” Krile said to T’lorna. Then she jumped back when she really saw T’lorna. Alphinaud looked up and sighed.

“You know, Noah is going to be upset with you for getting hurt,” Alphinaud muttered, trying to make light of the situation. “Gods be good, what did he do to your jaw?”

“I unno,” T’lorna mumbled.

“Don’t try to speak. It’s disgusting watching you drool.”

“Alphinaud!” both Krile and Alisaie shouted at once. T’lorna just leveled her flattest, coldest, meanest glare on him well aware that it was hampered somewhat by the fact that one side of her face was swelling rapidly and both of her eyes were black and nearly swollen shut. Krile and Alphinaud quickly worked their healing energies on her, lessening the severity of her injuries though it would be days before she was completely healed.

“Thank you,” she said without drooling. She winced. Her jaw was still tender and her face sore, but she could see clearly out of both eyes. Her ribs still hurt but she could stand and walk without wanting to scream. She closed her eyes and channeled her energies through one of her soul stones, feeling her armor shift. Instead of wearing the garb of a dark knight, she stood in her white mage robes and could feel the healing abilities surging within her.

She was also thankful that she no longer had to carry around heavy armor as wounded and tired as she was.

Moving through the ruins of Rhalgr’s Reach, T’lorna sought out the wounded, healing them when she could. She prayed over those who were beyond her care.

And all the while, her anger began to bubble up inside of her.

She should have been able to defeat that monster in a man’s form. She should have been able to best Zenos. How could it be that she, the Warrior of Light, bearer of Hydaelyn’s gift, could have been so powerless before him?

When she was done, she headed to the infirmary to check on Conrad and Y’shtola. Lyse and Krile stood over the other Miqo’te, watching her sleep. Alphinaud and Alisaie were sitting with Conrad, listening to him mourn.

“M’naago? Meffrid? Where are you…?” he asked, his voice soft and forlorn. T’lorna handed the man a charm she had taken from Meffrid’s body. “This is…” Conrad sighed. “He’s dead, isn’t he.” T’lorna and the others remained silent. It had not been a question. “Meffrid was a worrier. Always thinking about others before himself. He once had an Imperial patrol chase him nigh on twenty malms so that his wounded would have time to escape… His comrades loved him for it, of course… though that only made him worry more. Did you know that he sent his men in Quarrymill away because he thought they were fighting for him, and not the cause? Aye, well, he did. The only life he was willing to risk was his own, you see. But that’s exactly the kind of man who should be leader! The kind of man who deserves to survive. Not a… not an old fool who’s all used up.”

“There’s no logic to it, Master Kemp,” Alphinaud said softly. “There never is. Who stands, who falls… in the heat of battle, we can do but our best – as he did. Meffrid will be sorely missed, aye… but because of his sacrifice, many now live who otherwise would not – and they need us, now more than ever.”

Conrad appeared to consider these words and then nodded. “Aye… aye, that they do,” he agreed. “Forgive me. I had… high hopes for him, is all…”

“Our defeat was no near thing,” Pipin said from his place near the back wall. “It was total – a humiliation. We were powerless to withstand our enemy’s assault. But we cannot afford to dwell on our failure. As Alphinaud said, it is those who survived whom we must think of now. Rhalgr’s Reach is no longer safe. The imperials may have withdrawn, but they could return at any time to finish what they began. We dare not remain here. Those who are not fit to make the journey to Castrum Oriens will need to be taken by chocobo carriage. Agreed?” T’lorna nodded. “Good. I shall oversee preparations for the carriages.”

T’lorna left him to it while she looked for anything that might be useful to help the wounded during the evacuation. Soon, those who could not walk were strapped down into the chocobo carriage and Pipin was calling for her to join them.

“Y’shtola and the others are safely strapped in,” Krile was saying. “Don’t worry – I’ll be by her side the entire time.”

“Thank you, Krile,” Alphinaud replied.

“I’ll walk alongside,” Lyse offered. “They’ll need protection in case the Garleans try anything. “Hang on,” Lyse said, turning to Conrad. “You’re injured, too, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be in one of the carriages?”

“I’m not so frail that I can’t make the trip on my own,” he replied. “Besides, there’s still work to be done here. I’ll see you at the Wall when it’s finished.”

“As you wish,” Pipin said. “Then let us set forth at once. We shall move as quickly as our comrades’ health allows. To Castrum Oriens!”

As the chocobo cart took off down the path that would lead them to the Castrum near the Wall, Conrad turned to T’lorna.

“You saved a good many of my men, and I cannot thank you enough for that,” he said. “But the fact remains: our forces were decimated. In this state, we’ll not be mounting an assault on Castellum Velodyna or anywhere else. We need to be honest with ourselves about our prospects. But first, we need to put our affairs here in order. Afterwards, I’ll join you at Castrum Oriens.”

“Understood,” Alphinaud replied. “We will go and speak with General Aldynn.”

T’lorna thought that Raubahn would have been on his way with his son Pipin to Castrum Oriens. When she spied him just across the small waterway in the Reach, she was surprised. Alphinaud and Alisaie fell in behind her as she approached him to see what he had to say.

“Pipin has already departed with the wounded, has he?” Raubahn asked. “Good. We have completed our search of the Reach and the surrounding area. As far as we can tell, Zenos and his men returned straightways to Specula Imperatoris after quitting this place. ‘Twould seem he’s lost interest in us. Which brings us to the most troubling question of all – not how he found us, but why he chose to spare our lives having done so. In war, you kill or capture your enemy. You don’t leave him to fight another day. Only a fool would turn his back and walk away… but Zenos is no fool. Whatever his motive, this is neither the time nor the place to think on it. I will leave a token force to watch over the Reach. The rest will fall back to Castrum Oriens. We can discuss our path forward there.”

T’lorna and the others nodded and began to walk the path out of the Reach and back towards the Castrum. As she walked, she pondered what Raubahn had said. He was right, of course. In war, you did not let an enemy leave the field of battle alive unless you knew he was so defeated that he would never be a threat to you. You certainly did not turn your back on a still belligerent opponent. True, Zenos had beaten her soundly enough that she was not an immediate threat to him, but he should have killed her. He should have captured her. He should not have given her the chance to seek healing and continue to work on her fighting skills so that she could eventually best him.

So, why had he done just that?

The thought kept T’lorna up until dawn. And she still had no answer.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna felt a little better. She was still sore and aching, but she felt as if she could eventually get back to her sword forms.

She walked out of the small dormitory where the Scions had bedded down once they’d returned from the Reach. The doors to the rooms that belonged to the twins and Lyse stood open, letting T’lorna know that they were out and about already. The sun was just cresting the horizon and she could smell porridge being cooked out on the campfires nearby. Rubbing her hands over her eyes, she wished that she had taken time to wash up before she’d finally nodded off, her thoughts focused on Zenos and the fight that had humbled her.

Promising herself that she would wash up later, she headed out to get some breakfast. On her way, she saw that Alphinaud, Alisaie, Lyse, and Conrad were all gathering around the great map table where Raubahn liked to outline their plans. T’lorna bypassed the cauldrons to see what was going on.

“Were it not for the swift actions of the Scions and the Alliance, many more would have died,” Conrad was saying. “You risked your lives to save ours, and for that we thank you.”

“There is no need for thanks,” Alphinaud protested. “We are allies, are we not?”

“Aye, just so,” Raubahn agreed. “Let us not dwell on this tragedy, but look to the future.”

“The future?” Conrad asked. “I’m sorry, General, but there is no future for us.” He lowered his face sorrowfully. “We’ve lost too many… Gods, I can still see Meffrid with that woman standing over him. They’ve ripped the heart out of us, General. They’ve broken us. Our fight is over.”

“Master Kemp, please,” Alphinaud pleaded.

“I’ll always hate them with every fiber of my being. For what they took from us, then and now. Our homeland… our freedom… our bloody children…”

“You mean the Skulls…” Lyse said softly. “The youths who fight for Zenos.”

“Crania Lupi,” Conrad agreed. “The Black Wolf’s legacy, and our shame. A unit made up of children born to Ala Mhigan dignitaries who came of age during the occupation. Sons and daughters of Gyr Abania raised to be proud citizens of the Empire, with all the rights and responsibilities that entails. It’d be easy to curse them and call them traitors, but they’re our children. Our flesh and blood! If the only way to forge the future we want is to cut down our own, then…”

“Then what was it all for!?” came a woman’s angry screech from nearby. T’lorna and the others glanced over to see M’naago staggering, still sore and wounded, to the table.

“Naago…” Lyse whispered.

“What will you say to the families of the fallen – to the mothers and the widows and the orphans?” M’naago demanded. “Will you tell them it was all for nothing!?”

“Listen to the girl,” Raubahn said with his characteristic bluntness. “We dare not suffer our comrades’ sacrifices to have been in vain. Now is the time to steel our resolve and press on, painful though it may be.”

“And when Zenos comes back with his army?” Conrad asked. “What then? This isn’t the first time, you know. You’ll be hard-pressed to find men brave or stupid enough to face him again.”

“I still can’t believe how strong he was,” Lyse muttered. “He humiliated us back there, the Warrior of Light included. Gods help us if he’s next in line to the Garlean throne.”

“Loath though I am to say it, we should not be surprised. Before succeeding van Baelsar in Ala Mhigo, Zenos led the imperial army to Doma, where he crushed the rebellion utterly,” Alphinaud said in agreement with Lyse. “As a matter of fact, Doma remains in his charge to this day. Suffice it to say, Varis’s heir is a peerless warrior and an accomplished general. The question is, how are we to contend with such a foe?”

“We fight and we fight, and we keep on fighting until we win,” T’lorna muttered.

“Come now,” Alphinaud chided her gently, “even you have your limits – but then… so too must he… One legatus ruling two provinces a world apart… Yes,” he mused. “Divide and conquer. We kindle the flames of revolution in Doma once more, thereby forcing Zenos to fight a war on two fronts.”

“For that, there would need to be someone left to fight on this front by the time you got back,” Conrad mused. “Look, I’ll not deny the plan has promise – and I feel for our brothers and sisters in Doma, truly I do – but I fear we lack the strength to see it through.”

“Have faith in your people, Master Kemp,” Raubahn said calmly. “Them and the Scions. Hold fast, rebuild, and when all is in place, we shall defeat Zenos together.”

“If you’re going to Doman, I’m coming too,” Lyse said firmly. “I want to help our friends there… and make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

T’lorna nodded in agreement. It seemed that the others were on-board with this plan. Finally, Raubahn spoke.

“Give us the time we need, and we will give you something far greater,” he promised.

“Very well,” Conrad sighed. “For all you have done for us, we will fight on. But be swift, comrades. Ala Mhigo has suffered enough.”

“It goes without saying, but the Scions alone have not the strength to topple a provincial government, here or anywhere else,” Alphinaud said. “And I am quite certain the same can be said of the Doman Liberation Front. Nevertheless, we can but go and assess the situation for ourselves, and see what can be done. Lest you doubt what good we few can accomplish, I would remind you that my grandfather and his twelve disciples once journeyed to these lands to save Eorzea and her people from certain doom. Brave souls with an impossible task. And Eorzea lives on. Our present mission may not be as monumental in scope, but it is no less important to the multitudes whom we would free from imperial oppression – whom we _will_ free.”

“Let us be careful about what promises we make,” T’lorna replied. “It’s all fine and well to say we _will_ do something when we don’t have the full picture. But making promises that we later turn out to be unable to fulfill can just cause us greater problems down the road. After all, I promised my son I wouldn’t get hurt back before I knew that Zenos would show up and humble me completely. Now the best I can do is promise him I’ll try not to get hurt. We promised the people of Ala Mhigo we would free them. But we haven’t – not yet. Our actions got many of them killed. Had we been more cautious, more careful, and done more preparation, we might not have lost as badly as we did.”

“T’lorna…” Alisaie said in the tone that indicated she was going to try to offer comfort.

“I don’t need to be comforted, Alisaie,” the Warrior of Light said. “It was not our fault that this happened. But we do bear some responsibility for being so rash and arrogant. In the future, let us be careful of the promises we make. That’s all I’m suggesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I mentioned that I thought I had bruised my collar bone in the last chapter. Well, I wish it was that simple. Apparently I have managed to get the nerve that runs from the neck to the arm pinched there (due to a car wreck I suffered years back). Typing (or even just raising my arm) *hurts.* I am on pain pills, muscle relaxers, and seeing a sports medicine doctor over it. However, they are all warning me that I might need surgery or that it could be months before the nerve moves back to where it is supposed to be.
> 
> I will *try* to get a chapter up at least every other week but please be patient with me until I can get this fixed.


	49. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll be moving to Othard next chapter. It's taking me longer to type these out since my arms are hurting so much. I did try using speech-to-text software but it doesn't like my very Southern accent. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

Alphinaud had proven truly prescient when he’d predicted that Noah was not going to be happy with her. The minute her son had laid eyes on her, he had begun scolding his mother for letting someone beat her up after she had promised not to let that happen.

“Who beat you up, Mama?” Noah demanded, his little face scrunched up in annoyance and anger. “I go talk to his Mama and get him in twouble.”

T’lorna grinned at the thought of her son walking up to the Crown Prince’s mother and shook her head. “I don’t know who his mother is and, even if I did, all I know is that she probably lives very far away and you probably wouldn’t be able to go talk to her.”

“Did he hurt you bad?”

“He hurt my pride more than anything, Noah. I thought I was a really strong, powerful warrior but he showed me that I have a lot to learn if I want to beat him in a fight.”

“We learn together. Then I help you get him,” Noah offered.

“We will learn together, my little man,” T’lorna grinned. “But first, we’re going on a very, very long trip. We’re going to go see your daddy’s family.”

“We are?” Noah said, his ears perking up straight and his face brightening. “I get to see my other granpa and granma?”

“And other aunts and uncles and cousins,” she added with a nod.

“Just you and me?” he asked.

“No. Aunt Tataru, Aunt Alisaie, Uncle Alphinaud, and some others will be coming with us on the trip. But only you and I will be going to see your daddy’s tribe. If you like them, you can stay with them while I do work over there.”

“And if I don’t like them?” he asked curiously.

“Then you will have to stay with your Aunt Tataru while I’m out working. If the places I go are safe, I’ll come and get you and keep you with me but no promises that is how it will be. But I think you’ll like your daddy’s family. They’ll know a lot of stories about him.”

“More than you?”

“Way more than me. I didn’t know your daddy for very long before he locked himself in his tower. They’ll be able to tell you what your daddy was like when he was your age. What he was like when he was growing up. They’ll be able to tell you all the stories that he thought were important.”

“When we get there?” he asked, brushing his hair out of his face.

“We have to find a ship that will take us there,” she explained. “Then, it will take several days of being on that ship. We won’t be able to get off of it until it arrives at a safe place. We’ll probably take a few days to rest and then go see your daddy’s family.”

“Why rest?”

“Because we’ll have to get used to being on the ground again. Walking on a boat on the sea and walking on the ground are very different things. We’ll have to get used to both and will need some time to explore the city we’ll be in.”

“Will it be like the hot city? Or the water city? Or the one with the trees?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” T’lorna admitted. “But it might not be like any city we’ve ever seen. I’ve never been there. But the people will be nice even if they are different and it will be good for us all to learn about how different people live.”

“You mean they not live like us?”

“Well, not everyone lives the way we do. They might dress differently, eat different foods, speak in a different manner. It’ll be interesting to learn more about the different people who live on this world with us.”

“They all good people? Or there be bad people there who want hurt you?”

“There will be good people and bad people everywhere we go, Noah,” T’lorna said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t go. If we lived like that, we would never ever leave our bedrooms and that would get pretty boring, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Noah said slowly as he considered this. “Though my best toys are in our bedroom.”

“Yeah, but if you only got to play with those toys and could never ever ever get new ones? That would get pretty boring, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess,” he shrugged. “When we go?”

“We’ve got to find a ship that will take us there,” T’lorna explained. “Aunt Tataru, Aunt Alisaie, Uncle Alphinaud, and I will be working on that for a few days. As soon as we find a ship, we’ll start making plans to leave.”

“I know what boats look like,” Noah said brightly. “I go look for boat, too?”

“You can come along with me if you want to help me look,” T’lorna said, hiding a grin that would have spoiled her son’s happiness. “You’re still too short to go looking for boats all by yourself.”

“When I get to be tall like you?”

“Oh, baby, you get taller every day,” T’lorna laughed. “Once you were so small that I could hold you with one hand. Now you’re getting so big that I can barely pick you up.”

“I’m not _that_ big!” Noah protested. He loved it when his mother picked him up and carried him. He stuck his arms straight up, indicating that he wanted to be picked up. T’lorna laughed as she bent over, lifted him, settled him over her hip, and then carried him out of the Rising Stones and into the crisp, cool air of Mor Dhona. Noah wrapped his arms around her neck and laid his head on her shoulder. He breathed deeply and T’lorna realized that his face was right over the claim mark that his father had made. She rubbed his cheek with a thumb, feeling the ridged scar that marred his face.

“It not hurt no more, Mama,” Noah said tiredly.

“I know it doesn’t hurt you anymore,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head fondly. “But if you grow up to look like your Daddy as much as you do right now, that scar will be the only way I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

“I really look like him?”

“You really do.”

“We should go see him before we leave,” Noah sighed, snuggling into his mother’s neck. “Tell him about going to see his mommy and daddy. Maybe then he’ll wake up and come with us.”

“Oh, Noah,” T’lorna sighed. “I think that your daddy is going to stay asleep for a long time. He went and locked up the Tower so that the world would be safe from the dangerous things in it. He said he wouldn’t wake up until the world could handle the things in the Tower safely. He did it to protect you and me and all the people that he loves.”

“But I want him out here,” Noah muttered. “I want to see my daddy.”

“Well, that’s why we’re working with Cid so much. So that we can learn how all of the dangerous things work and how to use them safely. Once we know that and we teach everyone else, then we’ll have figured out how to open the Tower and wake up your daddy.”

Noah stayed quiet for a while, thinking. T’lorna knew he had not drifted off to sleep because his breathing was too swift. She continued to walk through the town, stopping to study the various stalls and see what they had on offer. Noah lifted his head when they reached a stall where toys were being sold. He already had a small wooden sword and shield he played with and several sticks he had found and claimed were magic wands. He enjoyed playing with his different sized cups and balls and building things with his blocks.

“See something you want, Noah?” T’lorna asked.

“No. I have all of these already,” he shrugged. “Want go see the Tower. Talk to my daddy.”

“We’ll go after we eat some lunch,” she sighed.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna watched as Noah toddled around the tower’s base, patting the cool, blue crystal outcroppings as he talked to his father. He was explaining about how they were working hard to figure out how to make all the bad things in the tower not be bad anymore so that they could open up the tower and he could wake up and come out.

She smiled, a soft, sad smile. She wondered if the Tower could somehow transmit Noah’s words to Raha. Perhaps her husband dreamed of what his son told him. Her smile turned into a full-blown grin as she imagined Raha waking up to find a tribe of Noah’s descendants camped out around the Tower treating him like an honorary grandfather and telling him about every. Little. Thing. They could think of.

Would Raha have even wanted to be a father so young?

She had never really considered that. When they had come together, he had seemed eager for her to give him children. But would he have been as excited if he’d known that he would be a father after less than a year of marriage? Or would he have been terrified and angry?

If, by some miracle, they were able to open the Tower within her lifetime, what would Raha think? What if she were old enough to be _his_ mother by the time they opened it? Would he still love her? Want her? Or would he be disgusted by her? If he saw his son, what would he think? Would he be as overwhelmed with love and a desire to protect and teach as she had been when Noah was laid in her arms just after she had labored to bring him into the world? Or would he resent the intrusion into his studies?

“Raha,” she whispered as she watched Noah wander into a small crevasse to study some rock formation that had caught his attention, “did you want to be a father? Did you really want children? Or were those just words you said because they were expected of you? Would you have given up your place among the Students of Baldesion to stay with me and to help me raise our son? Or would you have begrudged every moment you were forced to care for him instead of losing yourself in one of your tomes? Twelve know that there have been times that I have realized the price I paid to be a mother. But I have _never_ regretted it. Instead, I give Noah as much of my time as I can and consign my studies to when I can entrust him to others or when he is sleeping. Would you have been as happy to pay that price?”

“Mama!” she heard Noah shout from just out of her line of sight. “Come see what I finded!”

T’lorna hurried over, stepping through the crystalline cleft carefully, to see her son waving his hands at a bobbing orb. It was made out of green stone and covered with circuitry and lights that made her think of the orbs she had seen in Azys Lla. It bobbed up and down in the air near her soon, lights flashing. Noah was grinning and waving at it, his little hands close to touching it.

“Noah, wait…” T’lorna said just as one of his hands touched the orb.

“Greetings!” the orb said in an oddly mechanical but female voice. “I am Instructional Orb A-362. I recognize the authority of the Royal Family. How are you called, my student?”

“I Noah Tia!” Noah shrieked with delight. “Who you?”

“I am Instructional Orb A-362,” the orb repeated. “I am pleased to meet you Noah Tia.”

“You be my friend, In… in… instuckal orb?”

“In-struct-ion-al,” the orb repeated.

“Orbie!” Noah shrugged.

“I will respond to that name, Noah Tia.”

“You know my daddy?”

“I know all members of the Royal Family up to the adoption of Desch by Princess Salina.”

“Was Daddy before or after that?” Noah asked his mother.

“After. Well after,” she replied.

“My daddy after that,” Noah told the orb.

“You bear the blood of the Royal Family, descendant of Desch. My mission will be to instruct you in the history, beliefs, practices, and knowledge controlled by the Royal family.”

“What that mean?”

The orb seemed to hang in confusion for a long moment before T’lorna stepped over and placed her hand on it. “He’s not quite one and a half years old,” she explained.

The orb seemed to probe her and then ran some calculations. Noah looked slightly worried that it was no longer talking.

“It break?”

“No, I am not broken, Noah Tia,” the orb said in reply. “The princess consort has given me information that requires that I adapt my manner of instruction. Would you like to hear a story about how your ancestors came to rule in Allag?”

“Sure. What Allag, though?”

“Why don’t we all go back to the Rising Stones and see if Aunt Tataru found us a boat?” T’lorna suggested. “Orbie can come with us if she wants.”

“Of course I will accompany the young prince,” Orbie said as it bobbed happily in the air. “That is my mission – to instruct those of the Royal Family.”

“I have a feeling you will be very useful,” T’lorna said. “Noah, go tell your daddy thank you for sending you Orbie.”

She had to help Noah climb up the sides of the crevasse but smiled when she saw the orb floating in its bobbing manner near her son. She could have sworn that she sensed a kind of fondness from the mechanical thing.

“The Allagan were truly fascinating,” she muttered to herself as she listened to her son prattle his thanks to his father. “How could they create things that, after thousands of years, would still be able to recognize the Allagan Royal line?”

“You have a question, Princess Consort?” the orb asked her.

“Why do you call me that?” T’lorna asked curiously. “I am not a member of the Royal family.”

“That is why you are the Princess Consort and not the princess,” the orb said pleasantly. “I recognize your son as a full member of the Royal line. I recognize you as his mother based on his sharing a bloodline with you. Since you are not a member of the Royal family but he is, it is logical to conclude that you were married into the Royal family, making you a Princess Consort through your marriage and not a princess in your own right.”

“Sure,” T’lorna said, still confused. She had never paid much attention to the titles and relationships between ruling families and their various members. “You can call me T’lorna,” she decided. “And don’t refer to either myself or my son by our titles,” she added. “Others might not understand and it has been quite some time since the Allagans ruled the world. Can you determine how long it has been since you were last activated?”

The orb’s bobbing slowed as it appeared to run various calculations to determine the current date, its previously activated date, and the amount of time between the two events.

“It has been five thousand and seventeen years, three months, eight days, ten hours and twenty-seven minutes since I was last asked a question by a member of the Royal family,” the orb replied. “I have also been moved from my previous location inside the Syrcus Tower. That seems to have happened quite recently – within the past five years.”

“One of the Ironworks or members of NOAH must have found you in the Tower and brought you outside intending to study you further. Probably, in the rush to clear the area, you were left behind, and the weather blew you into this crevasse.”

“That seems like a good hypothesis, T’lorna.”

“Do you have some kind of power source we need to take with us if you are going to travel with us to Othard?”

“I am capable of generating my own energy from exposure to sunlight. I was also constructed to be very sturdy since many of my wards would be young children who would not know how to handle a more delicate, fragile training orb.”

“Just remember that my son is not Allagan and knows nothing about the Empire. He’s also only a year old. Any information you are thinking about teaching him, you will tell me first so I can tell you if subsequent history has proven your information wrong or if it would require you to teach him other things first before he could understand it.”

“At his age, my programming constraints mean that I can only tell him stories about the Royal family, its history, and the general legends concerning the founding of the Empire and its rise to power.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing some of those myself,” T’lorna sighed. Noah was tottering over towards the stairs that led down to the Eight Sentinels and calling for her and Orbie to come with him. “Let’s get going before he decides to try to climb the rubble to see if his father left him other gifts.”

“But his father did not leave me,” Orbie protested.

“Don’t you dare tell him that,” T’lorna hissed. “Let him think you’re a gift from a father he may never know. Let him have that until he is old enough to know the truth without growing bitter.”

“Who is his father?”

“In return for your promise not to tell him the truth of how you came to be where he could find you, I will tell you as much as I know or ever learn about the descendants of Desch.”

“You have my promise,” the orb said.

“We’ll talk more when Noah is asleep.”

With that, the trio began to make their way back to the Rising Stones to see if a ship had been found.

~*~*~*~

“Ah, there you are, T’lorna,” Tataru said as soon as the Warrior of Light, her son, and a floating Allagan orb entered the Rising Stones. “I just wanted to let you know that I found a ship that will take us to Othard. It’s the _Kraken Arms_ and is captained by…”

“Carvallain,” T’lorna sighed. “I ran into him a few times in Limsa Lominsa. Surely you could have gone to Admiral Bloefhiswyn to request someone a little more reputable.”

“Ah, but not cheaper,” Tataru said with a feral grin. “I know Carvallain’s little secret and, in return for me not telling it, he agreed to take us to Kugane at a _very_ reasonable price.”

“Sometimes you can be a very scary little lady,” T’lorna said with a soft laugh. “What did you learn that was so useful?”

“Ah, if I told you, I’d be breaking my agreement with our dear Elezen captain,” Tataru laughed. “Let’s just say that he doesn’t want to go home again.”

“Why he not want go home?” Noah asked curiously.

“He likes where he lives now and wants to stay with his friends,” Tataru said, thinking quickly.

“But why?”

“Because, when you’re grown up, you can decide where your home is and you don’t have to live with your Mama and Daddy,” T’lorna explained. “But, it sounds like his Mama and Daddy want him to come home because they may not like his friends.”

“What he do then?”

“It’s his decision,” T’lorna shrugged. “If he doesn’t want to go home, he doesn’t have to.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Is there anything you need me to focus on in order to help prepare for the journey?” T’lorna asked as Noah toddled over to the bar to ask F’lhaminn for a snack.

“There is, actually,” Tataru said. “Go and speak with the Domans around here. Alphinaud pointed out that we know little of their homeland and that any information they can provide would be most welcome. Once you have done that, we are to meet back at the docks in Limsa Lominsa. Lyse will join you since she was at odd ends when we were planning. Go and talk to her to see how she is doing on this errand, would you?” Tataru asked.

“Keep an eye on Noah for me? Oh, and his father gave him a gift,” T’lorna said carefully. “It’s an instructional orb. Make certain that any stories Orbie tells him are appropriate and be ready to offer an explanation if you can. If you can’t, then tell Orbie that the Princess Consort will have to explain things to Noah when she gets back.”

“Okay…” Tataru said slowly. “I’ll take him up to your quarters once he finishes his snack. He can tell me what toys he wants to take with him and then I’ll settle him for a nap and pack his clothing.”

“Thank you, Aunt Tata,” T’lorna grinned. “You’re the best.”

Tataru laughed as T’lorna hurried back up the stairs to leave the Rising Stones in search of Lyse.

It did not take her long. Lyse was standing just outside of Cid’s shop. T’lorna walked over to her and nodded in greeting.

“Well, here we are,” Lyse said with a hint of excitement. “We’ll need to talk to lots of people, so I think we should split up. I’ll ask around at the House of Splendors. You take the Rising Stones. I’ll meet you here after it. Got it?” T’lorna nodded and Lyse rushed off on her own errand. T’lorna heaved a sigh of relief and headed back into the Rising Stones. Inside, she spoke with three of the Doman refugees who told her about the importance of the One River for trade, transport, and communications. Another told her how Zenos had led the legion that defeated the Doman uprising while the last gave her some information on the Doman Castle. As she made her rounds, Noah walked behind her, nodding his head solemnly as if he understood any of what was being discussed. T’lorna forced herself not to laugh at the confused expressions on the faces of the various Domans as Noah shadowed her. Most of them were unaccustomed to the easy way in which Eorzeans reared their children. As she headed back out to meet with Lyse again, Noah followed her, clinging to her skirts as they walked up the stairs.

“I learned far more about Far Eastern customs and behavior than I did anything useful,” Lyse groused.

“Well, I learned that the Garlean control of the One River cut off a lot of the Domans’ ability to transport their forces and goods without the Imperials interfering. Also, Zenos did lead the XIth legion who quelled the Doman uprising. Finally, the Empire itself seems to be in chaos with the old Emperor’s death.”

“What chaos?” Noah asked, patting T’lorna’s leg and holding his arms up indicating that he wanted to be picked up so he could look both her and Lyse in the face. T’lorna bent down and hefted him to her hip.

“It’s when things get really confused, Noah,” Lyse said. “People start acting strange.” Noah blinked and then shrugged. Lyse opened her mouth to try to explain again but T’lorna waved her off.

“So, now that we have completed these tasks, once we’re packed up, we should head on to the docks at Limsa Lominsa, shouldn’t we?” T’lorna asked. Lyse nodded and T’lorna looked over at Noah and grinned. “Looks like we’re going to go get our things and then get on a boat, Noah. We’ll be going to see your daddy’s family in just a few days.”

“Can Orbie come?” he asked, burrowing his face into her neck. Lyse looked at her in confusion and she shrugged.

“Of course Orbie will be coming. She’s got a lot to teach you and I’m certain that she would like hearing stories she doesn’t know from your daddy’s family. I think this will be an interesting trip for us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have a little bit of downtime with Noah. Next chapter is going to be over in Othard and then we'll fly on through Stormblood. :)


	50. Among the Gryphon Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude to get to see some of G'raha's family before the events of Doma play out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

T’lorna carried only a single sack containing her son’s clothes and a few toys along with some extra linkpearls and a small aetheryte that she could set up to make retrieving her son easier. She would set that up only with the blessing of the G tribe and would make certain that it was well-guarded to prevent Garlean forces from using it to stage an invasion. She tried not to think about the mishaps that had plagued their voyage from Limsa Lominsa to Kugane. She also tried not to think about the creeping sensation of being under constant watch by both the Sekiseigumi and the East Aldenard Trading Company.

“They dress funny, Mama,” Noah said as he tried to look over her shoulder from the harness that let her carry him on her back. “Why the boys wear dresses back there?”

“They don’t wear dresses, Noah,” T’lorna said, her eyes scanning the forest path constantly for the signs that would take her to the G tribe’s homegrounds. “Those are robes and everyone wears them over here. It’s just their way.”

“Oh. Okay,” Noah said in the manner that indicated that he didn’t understand it but would take his mother’s word for it until he did figure it out. “Do Daddy’s family wear robes?”

“I don’t know, Noah,” she admitted. “I have never met them before. But they will be welcoming to you. You are part of them through your daddy.”

And that was the _only_ reason why her messages to the G tribe, passed through agents in Kugane, had gotten her the passes and permissions to visit their homegrounds. Apparently the full story of G’raha’s time in Eorzea had not made it to his tribe and his family was eager to hear it from one who had been there. They were also eager to meet the only son G’raha would ever have. She had been promised safe passage to and from their tribe and that the G tribe would take responsibility to for ensuring that Noah maintained a relationship with her own tribe in the event of her death.

Once she had met them and assessed them, she might even tell them to ensure that they maintained contact with the Ironworks in the event of her death. One of the linkpearls in her bag contained the codes necessary to do just that. Another would help them contact the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. The last and least secure would put them in direct contact with T’Zhiki Nuhn, her father and the leader of the Condor Tribe.

“Hold there, stranger,” she heard a hauntingly familiar voice said. “State your name and purpose.”

“I am T’lorna Zhiki, wife of G’raha Tia, and mother of T’Noah Tia. I have come to bring news to my husband’s family and to establish ties with them on my son’s behalf.”

“So, my wandering scholar of a cousin _did_ meet and marry his hero,” the man said, sounding amused. “And from that little red-headed bundle on your back, I see he got a child on you.” There was the sound of leaves rustling and then a man landed lightly on the path a few yalms in front of her. He had the same reddish-brown hair that G’raha had. However, this man’s eyes were pure cyan like the one G’raha had until the clones gifted him with their blood, turning his cyan eye red. That was where their resemblance ended. This man was taller and far more muscular than G’raha with skin that was darkened from the sun. He carried several spears and a pair of long daggers.

“I am G’arin Tia. G’raha is my cousin, the son of my uncle. We heard that you sent a letter to my uncle G’wain that he and Aunt G’alia were grandparents. You also said that G’raha was locked in a tower?”

“It is a long story, G’arin,” T’lorna said with a sigh. “One which I would prefer not to have to repeat twenty times.”

“Of course not, cousin,” he said with a slight bow of respect. “Still, I would like to meet G’raha’s son.”

“That me!” Noah squealed as he bounced in his carrier. “He my daddy!”

“Hello there, little one. How are you called?”

“I T’Noah Tia,” Noah said carefully, remembering to use the name his mother had told him to use instead of the one everyone called him.

“Well, with your coloring and those eyes,” G’arin said with a wry grin, “here you will be called G’Noah Tia. Unless your mother has an objection?”

“He’s a child of mixed lineages,” T’lorna shrugged. “In the end, when he passes his Rite of the Hunt, he will decide where his allegiance lies.”

“And the Gryphon and Condor have ever been friends,” G’arin nodded. “Each of us rules the skies over our territories but respects the other. Come, I will show you to the homegrounds.”

~*~*~*~

“Be welcome, T’lorna,” G’wain said as he gestured for her to sit on one of the padded cushions set near a low table. “We have been looking forward to meeting Raha’s wife and son. You said that his name is Noah?”

“I named him after the expedition Raha led and after an archmagus of Allagan history,” T’lorna nodded.

“I know that person quite well,” G’wain said with a grin. T’lorna found herself relaxing around the man. It was clear that G’raha had inherited most of his father’s facial features and coloring, as well as the Allagan eye, but he did not look exactly like his father. Not the way that Noah did, at least.

“It’s strange,” G’alia said as she watched Noah toddle around the hut, inspecting the various things he found. “It’s like having my little Raha back to see his son here.”

“Not to mention that Noah looks _exactly_ like Raha did at that age. He even walks the same way.”

“How did he come to have _two_ Royal Eyes, though?” G’wain asked. “As you can see, our far ancestor Desch was given only one Eye to pass on through each generation.” He pointed to his own eye – one was red and the other was emerald. G’alia’s eyes were both the calm cyan hue that her son had once had in one eye.

“When we completed the expedition that opened the Crystal Tower,” T’lorna said, “the Allagan clones, Unei and Doga, were pulled into the World of Darkness due to an evil covenant that Xande had made. We were able to banish the Darkness but the clones stayed behind to seal that world away from ours. They then gave G’raha a share of their blood, making him a full member of the Royal line. After we returned, he was able to control the Tower itself. Noah must have been conceived after we returned from the World of Darkness since he inherited both eyes and since Orbie recognizes him as a prince of the Royal Line.”

“Orbie?”

“That’s what Noah named the Allagan Instructional node we found just before we came over here. It still works and is supposed to teach members of the Royal family about their history. However, Orbie doesn’t know anything about what happened after Xande sealed the tower up. Perhaps you could help with that?”

“You found and were able to enable an Allagan orb?” G’wain asked, his eyes wide with shock. “No wonder Raha would have been so drawn to you even if you were the one we intended to wed him to already, shaman-born. But to be also a scholar, an engineer, and the Warrior of Light? Raha, where ever his soul now dwells, must have been beyond happy to have known you, let alone convinced you to wed with him and bear his child and, presumably, his mark as well?”

T’lorna flushed slightly but nodded. “We marked each other.”

“Ah,” G’wain said sympathetically. “That makes it difficult for you now that Raha is…”

“What doing?” Noah asked as he toddled back over to them and flopped down on one of the cushions.

“We’re just talking, sweetheart,” T’lorna said.

“You look like me,” he grinned at his grandfather. “You my daddy’s daddy?”

“I am, young man. You can call me Papi. And this is your daddy’s mother, Mimi.”

“Okay. What do now?”

“We’ll have a light lunch since the tribe will be gathering to hear the stories of your father’s exploits, marriage, and of your birth this evening,” G’wain said to his grandson. “And, if your mother has no objections, we would like for you to stay with us for a while so we can get to know you and you can learn about your daddy’s tribe and family. Is that okay with you, Noah?”

“You have beach?” he asked. “I like water.”

“He does like to swim,” T’lorna said with a soft chuckle. “When he was younger, he used to chase the water when it went out and then run from it when it came back in. It was his favorite game.”

“It fun game. Not as fun as flyin’ with Drake,”

“Flying with Drake?” G’wain asked, his eyes clouded with confusion.

“Drake my brood brother. He dagon. He fly. I climb and jump and fly but not like he fly.”

“You don’t fly at all,” his mother laughed. “You fall for short periods of time.”

“Yeah. One day I learn to fly. Drake teach me,” he shrugged.

“Drake is one of Vidofnir’s brood,” T’lorna explained to Noah’s confused grandparents. “He and Noah adopted eachother and Noah is considered an honorary member of the Dravanian dragons. Don’t worry,” she added seeing their alarm. “They won’t come here. It’s too far for a youngling like Drake to fly on his own and Vidofnir and the others of her brood families prefer not to leave Eorzea.”

“How long will you be staying with the tribe, T’lorna?” G’alia asked. “We hope it will be for a long visit. We do want to get to know Raha’s wife well.”

“I can stay for a few days before I have to return to Kugane and start working with the Scions. I would leave Noah here with you to keep him out of trouble and to keep him safe from any who might seek to use him against me.”

“Such as the Garlean Empire,” G’wain guessed. T’lorna nodded. “The Imperials rarely bother with those of us who live among the tribes. Occasionally they’ll send a recruiting party through to meet at our common grounds – where several tribes meet to trade and where we also meet with the various townspeople in the region for harvest trading and festival. If they were to come here, they wouldn’t notice anything special about Noah since he resembles many in the tribe.”

“I will be leaving some linkpearls with you so you can get in touch with me quickly and vice versa if needed,” T’lorna added. “One will put you in contact with Tataru of the Scions. She will give you my passcode and a time to contact me. Otherwise, I will be calling in on it each night to tell Noah his bedtime story and to hear about his day. The second will put you in contact with my father back in La Noscea. Use it in case something happens to me. The last,” she sighed, holding up the linkpearl emblazoned with the Ironworks crest, “will put you in contact with Cid nan Garlond, a Garlean defector. He can give you the latest information on the Ironworks’ research into Allagan technology and any historical information they have uncovered from Allagan sources.”

“That could be very useful,” G’wain nodded. “Not only can we learn more about our ancestral heritage, but learning more about magitek weapons and systems can give us a leg up in case the Garleans ever do make a move against us. Thus far, they consider us too small and too barbaric to be worth the effort of crushing.”

“Staying small and seemingly powerless is a good move,” T’lorna agreed, “but knowledge of any kind can be a weapon in the right minds.”

G’wain threw his head back. He laughed so loudly that it startled Noah who glanced at each adult hoping that someone could explain to him what was so funny. G’alia’s smile just got wider and wider and her eyes sparkled with amusement. When G’wain finally wound down, he grinned at T’lorna and nodded.

“No wonder Raha married you the first chance he could,” G’wain chuckled. “You sound just like him.”

~*~*~*~

A few days later, T’lorna left the Gryphon tribe’s homegrounds feeling better about leaving her son in their care. For all that some of their customs were different, they were similar enough to life in her own tribe that she knew Noah would adapt in no time at all.

And he would be safe from anyone seeking to destroy her family in retaliation for her involvement in helping revolutionaries.

G’wain and G’alia had been someone bemused at Noah’s instance on tucking his daddy doll into bed and checking on it several times a day to make certain it was still there. However, they had been accepting of the odd practice and had told him and his mother many stories about Raha’s childhood. As she sat on the boat, letting the salty sea air wash over her, T’lorna felt as if she understood her husband even better now that she had spent time among his people. She closed her eyes, thinking back to that first night when she had told the story of Raha’s last months to his entire tribe.

There had been a large feast cooked out in the open so everyone had gathered around the homeground’s central fire and sat on cushions or the few benches that ringed the firepit. T’lorna had been given a place of honor seated atop several cushions with her back to the fire. Noah sat with her, slurping away at his stew and only pouring about half of it down his shirt. The various members of the tribe talked amongst themselves, waiting for T’lorna to finish her own meal. When she set her bowl to the side and folded her hands into her lap, the tribe’s Nuhn, a man named G’terin, raised his hands to signal for silence. Conversations quickly cut off and he turned to look T’lorna in the eyes.

“Shaman-born and honored mate of my nephew Raha and mother of his son, G’noah Tia, would you tell us of the path that led you to our tribal homegrounds?”

“My path started long ago, G’terin Nuhn. I was recognized as shaman-born of the Condor tribe shortly after my birth. That destiny set my path away from the usual life of a woman of the tribes and on a more solitary path where I would be the only mate of a man who was willing to give up his tribe to join with mine. As I grew from child to woman, my father, T’zhiki Nuhn, promised me that he would help me to find a good husband and that there would be a special trial he would have to undergo in order to prove himself worthy of marriage to a shaman-born. He sought among the tribes for a Tia of appropriate temperament and heard of your nephew, Raha, who had gone to study in Sharlayan, eventually rising to become an Archon and fully fledged member of the Students of Baldesion. Arrangements were tentatively made between our two tribes for a union and then, at the Battle of Carteneau, a spell came over me that caused me to vanish for five years.”

“You were at Carteneau when Bahamut was unleashed?” a woman only a few years older than T’lorna asked with a gasp. “But there were very few survivors from that battle. When Cousin Raha heard that his future wife was lost on those fields, he left the tribe for good, vowing that he would lose himself in study. We have not seen him since.”

“That’s not the only reason he left the tribe,” another of Raha’s cousins said. “He was often the butt of jokes and excluded from games because of his Allagan eye and his admiration for the heroes of old. He had no reason to want to remain among us and every reason to seek to make a new life for himself in Sharlayan.”

T’lorna held her peace. Raha had never told her the full story of how life had been for him as a child. From the murmurs and whispered recriminations she could hear, it seemed that he had been an outsider even in his own homegrounds.

“Aye,” his father said, “and that is why we sought a wife for him from another tribe where he could settle with her. A shaman-born woman was ideal. Now, please continue your story, T’lorna.”

“Yeah, tell story, Mama,” Noah said, his ruby eyes wide and pleading. He loved to hear stories about his father.

“When I found myself wandering the forests outside Gridania, I wondered what had happened,” T’lorna continued, picking up the story where she had left off. “I will not go into detail about the various trials I faced once it became obvious I had been gifted by Hydaelyn with the Echo. Suffice it to say, my gift gave me immunity to the tempering influence of primals and, as I learned to control it better, I was able to offer such shielding to my friends and comrades when we were forced to confront eikons. Along the way, I met and joined a free company and with their help and the support of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I was able to stop a potential invasion of Eorzea by Garlemald and to rescue one of our own from the clutches of the Ascian Lahabrea. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn decided to move to a more neutral location and, from there, I joined an expedition seeking to gain access to the Crystal Tower that had been uncovered a few years prior. The Sons of Saint Coinach, the Ironworks, and several other associations were forming groups to excavate and explore the ruins. I was sent out on an errand of finding materials to create items that would allow us to get past the Sentinels guarding the tower,” she said, a small smile forming on her face. “When I sought out one of those materials in the Black Shroud, that was when I first encountered Raha. He had beaten me to the item and, hiding in the trees where I could not see him, offered me a challenge for the others. I raced against him, winning the challenges he set for me, and then saw him for the first time when I returned to Mor Dhona with the items I had gathered. Once Cid nan Garlond used them to make the fangs we needed to get through the Sentinels, Raha and I walked together to the Crystal Tower to see if we really would be able to breach its defenses.

“We were successful. He announced that our organization would be called NOAH – Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical – and, from that day, he and I spent hours working to uncover the secrets of the Allagan Empire. Our research meant that we spent much of our time together and, eventually, the expedition decided we should share a tent. That led to us discovering that we felt a passion towards each other. As we battled through the Labyrinth of the Ancients and the Syrcus Tower, we fell deeper in love with each other and, eventually, made our vows to each other and came together as man and wife. Unei and Doga, two clones of ancient Allagan royalty, aided us as we fought to stop Xande’s madness and, in the end, they gifted Raha with the fullness of his heritage, causing his cyan eye to turn sanguine.

“We returned from the World of Darkness and Raha came to hear the voice of the Tower itself. We spent some time together though, I know now, he understood that the days of our marriage were to be few in number. In order to protect the world from the dangers of Allagan technology falling into the hands of those who would use it to enslave instead of enlighten, Raha chose to seal up the Tower with himself inside it, placing it in the same state of deep slumber that it had experienced since Allag fell.”

T'lorna sighed. Now came the most difficult part of her story.

“I did not know that Raha had left me with the gift of his child. All I had of him was a letter he had written me explaining his decision. That letter remains with my most treasured possessions. Shortly after his sealing the Tower, I underwent yet more trials, losing many of my friends and being forced to seek shelter among strangers in Coerthas. Within a short time, I learned that Raha had gifted me with his son, his only heir, and I suffered as a good and brave knight lay down his life to save my own.

“In time, I bore Raha’s son. I named him ‘Noah’ in honor of both the group Raha had founded and the ancient Allagan magus. In the time since, I have done the best I can to raise my son to honor his father and to appreciate his heritage. Noah and I have spent many days at the foot of the sleeping Tower. My son knows of the man who fathered him but does not know who that man was. I have brought him here to seek those answers and to give him the chance to embrace the half of his heritage that I, myself, cannot grant him.

“While I carried Noah, a noble man helped me to find sanctuary when it seemed that all of the world had turned against me and against my friends. Haurchefant died protecting me before Noah was born. In his memory and honor, I worked to end the Dragonsong War and bring peace to Ishgard. In time, my travels reunited me with my missing friends and the truth about what had happened at the Bloody Banquet came to be known. Our good names and reputations were restored and I was, once again, free to travel throughout Eorzea. In time, we reunited with some thought lost to us for good and began to try to wrest control of Ala Mhigo back from the Empire. To that end, we are going to force the Empire to fight us on two fronts which is why we have come to do what we can to help the Domans win free of Garlemald’s control.”

“That is a great task, filled with danger,” G’wain hissed.

“That is why I would like to leave Noah here where he will be safe from retaliation in case we fail.”

“Our grandson will always be welcome among the family,” G’wain nodded. “And our son’s wife is ever welcome in our homegrounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm on the mend and should be back up to a full chapter a week soon. Thanks for your patience with me while I get my shoulders sorted out. :)


	51. Travels in Kugane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we get through the part in Kugane. I'm planning to do one chapter per zone for Stormblood, adding interval chapters as needed. I'm hoping to have the action move into Shadowbringers no later than chapter 65.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in this universe.

“So Noah is settled in nicely with his grandparents?” Lyse asked when she returned to the East Aldenard Trading Company headquarters and saw that T’lorna had come back from Ilsabard alone.

“He fit right in with his father’s tribe,” T’lorna said. “I thought it best to leave him there where he will be safe from any attacks that might be aimed in our direction. Have you had any success in finding Gosetsu and Yugiri?”

“We’ve been asking around and showing off a sketch Alphinaud did of the pair,” Lyse replied. “So far, most people swear they’ve never seen them but we did find a rumor to trace to a person who was heard saying he’d seen them take a boat somewhere. Want to come with me while I track this lead down?”

“I’d love to,” T’lorna said with a wry grin. “After all, it’s been some time since you and I had an adventure together.”

Lyse threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, I remember that. We first came across each other in Gridania when Papalymo and I were investigating strange activities in the Shroud. Anyhow, let’s go find this Gyodo. He’s a ‘Namazu’ fisherman – whatever that means – and a regular at the Shiokaze Hostelry.”

They walked through the stone-cobbled streets of Kugane, enjoying the strange sights, sounds, and smells of the Eastern city. T’lorna found it quite charming and was somewhat amazed at the amount of silk clothing that people wore. Silk was rare in Eorzea and something that only the wealthiest wore. She herself had only a few items of silk clothing which she saved for special occasions. The scent of salt water filled the air as did the delicious odors of various kinds of seafood being cooked in the restaurants. As they walked into the Hostelry, the scent of various teas being brewed filled her nose. Lyse stopped to ask after Gyodo and the pair were directed to the upper balcony. Standing near one of the windows was a cat-fish creature standing on hind legs and wearing a red bib and golden bell around its neck. Lyse stood near it, staring at it in confusion.

“What, what?” the creature demanded, dancing from one foot to the other. “Why do you stare? You have business with me?”

“By the Twelve,” Lyse gasped, “a talking fish!”

“Yes, yes, a talking fish,” the creature said. “How very observant of you, Ijin.” The creature sighed heavily as if disappointed. “You find me in good spirits, so your rudeness I will ignore this once – but only if you address me again in the proper manner.”

“Sorry,” Lyse stammered. “I’ve never bet a – Let’s start again. You’re Gyodo, right? My name is Lyse, and this is T’lorna. We’re looking for some friends of ours.” With that, she handed over the sketch that Alphinaud had done.

“I see, I see,” Gyodo said after taking a moment to study it. “But these ones I know well. I helped them secure passage across the Ruby Sea.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! Could you do the same for us?”

“Yes, yes, this would not be a problem. For you, I could charter a ship this very day.” Gyodo was practically dancing with eagerness. “But the journey is fraught with much peril. The fare will not be cheap. Are you sure you can afford to pay?”

“I didn’t think to bring any money,” Lyse said to T’lorna, “but surely Tataru will let us take whatever we need from the Scions’ coffers, right?” T’lorna stared at Lyse in shock. Had the woman forgotten just how tightly Tataru held the purse strings? “We wouldn’t be the only passengers though… Could we take a moment to talk it over with our friends?” she asked Gyodo.

“Yes, yes, but hurry!” Gyodo urged. “Your ship must depart under cover of darkness. We shall meet again at sunset on the Tasogare Bridge. Do not forget your fare! Bring many gil, yes!?”

Gyodo waddled off on his own business and Lyse turned, a smile of triumph on her face. “It’s about time our luck changed! Alphinaud and the others will be thrilled!”

They hurried back to their headquarters and were not surprised to find the others gathered there.

“We spoke with a number of merchants and captains at the southern piers,” Alphinaud said after greetings were exchanged. “Several recognized Gosetsu and confirmed that he had been searching for a vessel to deliver him to Othard. None, however, made any mention of Lady Yugiri…”

“Yes, it was the same story for us – and then you’ll never believe what happened!” She quickly explained their meeting with Gyodo.

“So this Gyodo claims to have aided both Gosetsu and Yugiri? How fortuitous,” Alphinaud said.

“Not the word I would have chosen, Master Alphinaud,” Hancock said dryly.

“Stupid’s what I’d call it!” Tataru argued. “How can you agree to his price without making any attempt to haggle? Or even confirming what it was in the first place!?”

“Yes… that _too_ was a misstep on their part, but it is not what troubles me most,” Hancock agreed with the Lalafell. “Gyodo and his brethren are not renowned for their generosity of spirit. Rather, they are disdained as scheming moneylenders, ever eager to turn a profit from others’ misfortune.”

“Everyone else we questioned state that Gosetsu was alone. Only Gyodo claims to have met both him and Yugiri,” Alisaie said thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s just possible that Gosetsu made inquiries by himself, and only called upon Yugiri once he had found a willing captain…?”

“But it is equally possible – if not more likely – that you are being deceived,” Hancock pointed out. “Do not forget that there are parties present in Kugane with agendas which may run contrary to your own. The viceroy was once a spy herself, as I recall. I should be surprised if she did not have countless agents here in her employ – all eager to prove themselves to their new master. And what better way to do so than by delivering her the heads of foreign insurgents?”

“Fine,” Lyse said. “You may be right about him. But if Gyodo’s working for the Empire, who’s to say he didn’t try the same trick on Yugiri and Gosetsu? I mean, if he _did,_ he might know where they are. And if he _succeeded_ , they might be in trouble! Anyway,” she continued, “if he holds up his end of the bargain, we’ll have nothing to worry about, will we? But if he tries to betray us, I vote we take him prisoner and punch him till he tells us the truth.”

Alisaie stared at the Hyur in shock for a moment before grinning. “So, if it’s a trap, we’ll spring it and deal with the consequences. Hmm… I like the way you think.”

Alphinaud heaved a weighty sigh and shook his head. “Very well… We should prepare for the worst,” he muttered. “Tataru will remain here, and I shall follow the three of you at a discreet distance.”

“Once more, I must caution you to avoid physical altercations at all costs – even should Imperial agents attempt to engage you,” Hancock warned them. “The Sekiseigumi will not hesitate to clap you in irons… or cut you down. If anything untoward should happen, you are to return here at once. Is that clear?” The three women nodded in agreement and then turned and headed out to meet with Gyodo.

~*~*~*~

The trio waited until well past sunset before making their way down to the pier where the Namazu had told them to meet him. It was a more private pier for smaller ships bound to or coming from Othard. The larger, more public pier, was for those coming from Aldenard. They stood on the bridge joining the hostelry to the pier, waiting.

“He’s late…” Alisaie muttered. A few minutes later, T’lorna turned her head, spying movement in the shadows. Gyodo appeared, walking with his strange, waddling walk.

“Endless and most sincere apologies to you and yours, yes, yes,” he said. “This way, this way. Quickly now!” He led them across the bridge and down the winding staircase to the launching dock. However, it was empty.

“Enough,” Alisaie said firmly as they neared the lapping water. “Where are you taking us? Where is the ship?”

“The ship, the ship… So very sorry to inform you, yes, yes,” Gyodo said. “Long before was it pledged to another.” Then he turned and danced his odd hopping dance of excitement as he cried out, “To me, to me! These ones are for Doma!”

Lyse, T’lorna, and Alisaie turned around to see imperial soldiers approaching them.

“Ugh,” Lyse sighed. “I knew it couldn’t be this simple…”

“Nothing personal, yes, yes? Just business,” Gyodo replied.

“Then business is about to take a turn for the worse…” Lyse said as she stalked over to the Namazu. Before Gyodo could react, she kicked him hard, throwing him into the air and then caught his unconscious body and flung it over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s find a way out of here!”

T’lorna sighed and activated one of her soulstones. She felt her armor forming around her and her long sword and shield fell into place in her hands. The Garleans rushed them, pressing to attack quickly in hopes of overwhelming the three women. Lyse, encumbered with Gyodo’s unconscious form, hung back, letting Alisaie and T’lorna take on the bulk of the fighting. They were careful to keep quiet, eyes darting to the paths away from the piers in case the Sekiseigumi came upon them. Alphinaud appeared on one of those paths and quickly joined in with them. Within a few moments, the Garlean forces were defeated. They forced themselves to breathe slowly, ears perked for sounds. Alisaie listened for a long moment and then sighed.

“As expected, the Sekiseigumi have caught our scent. Since fighting them is out of the question, we’ll have to wind our way back to the Ruby Bazaar, evading their patrols at we go. If they find you, use these smoke bombs to make your escape!” she said as she handed over a pouch of the bombs. Then the twins ran off, leaving T’lorna and Lyse to make their own path back to the trading company headquarters.

The two women darted through the streets, keeping to the narrow, dark alleys as much as they could. Whenever they were spotted by any of the Sekiseigumi, T’lorna made use of the smoke bombs to cloud their eyes and give her and Lyse a chance to escape. However, when they reached the stairs that would take them up to the headquarters, they found the path completely blocked. An entire squadron of Sekiseigumi waited just outside the building.

“Oh bugger,” Lyse hissed softly. “They’ve got a whole squadron out front! What do we do now, T’lorna?” Before she could respond, a turtle-man appeared and hurried towards them, gesturing towards the deeper shadows.

“Come with me,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I will guide you to your friends.”

“First a talking fish, and now a tortoise?” Lyse sighed. “Well, what have we got to lose?”

They followed the creature down a narrow set of stairs that led to a back alley facing the waterfront. Underneath some wooden scaffolding, Alphinaud and Alisaie were waiting.

“That the Twelve you made it!” Alphinaud whispered. “I feared our Kojin friend might not find you in time.”

“Everything is going to be all right. Trust me,” the Kojin said. Lyse ducked under the scaffolding and set Gyodo down. “Stay hidden and quiet,” the Kojin ordered. “Understood?” T’lorna quirked her ears as the Kojin walked up the very stairs they had just taken. She could hear the rattling of swords and the footsteps of quick-walking soldiers approaching.

“Clear the road! Clear the road!” she heard them shout. “You, there, Kojin! We seek four foreigners – one a brutish woman carrying an unconscious Namazu. Have you seen them?” The four under the scaffolding tensed as they waited to see if they were about to be betrayed.

“Four foreigners, you say?” the Kojin replied. “Ah, yes! Very rude they were, making no apology as they barged past. They went that way, I think.”

“Godsdammit,” T’lorna hissed.

“Many thanks, good sir!” one of the Sekiseigumi said.

But the footsteps began to move away from where the four were hidden. The Kojin returned. “All is well. The Sekiseigumi will not return this way for some time, I should think,” he said reassuringly. “You are of the East Aldenard Trading Company, yes? Come with me. I know a safer way.”

With little choice left to them, they followed the Kojin through several more side-streets and dark pathways until, at last, he guided them into their headquarters through a back way that the Sekiseigumi were not guarding in force.

Hancock was pacing nervously and glanced up, heaving a sigh of relief at seeing them return. “You are returned – and with guests, I see.” Lyse let Gyodo fall from her shoulder to the floor and then shrugged.

“Our meeting went about as well as expected. We’ve brought the Namazu who thought to betray us. When he wakes up, we’ll see what he knows about Yugiri and Gosetsu.”

“Well done you,” Hancock applauded. “When I saw the Sekiseigumi out in force, I did begin to worry, but I see my fears were misplaced.”

“Actually, if it weren’t for Soroban, we might not’ve gotten away…” Lyse replied.

“Yet I must ask, Soroban: why would you deceive the Sekiseigumi to help us – foreigners of whom you know naught?”

“Why, out of the kindness of my heart… is what I would like to say, but my motives are not so pure. I chanced to witness your meeting with Hancock at the tavern, and saw an opportunity.”

“An opportunity?” Hancock asked.

“Like many, I came to Kugane as a trader to make my fortune,” Soroban explained. “Kojin of the Red may serve the Empire as mercenaries, but Kojin of the Blue walk a different path. Regretfully, most here would rather not meet our gaze, much less do business. So I seek the custom of those less predisposed to dismiss us outright. Namely, the East Aldenard Trading Company.”

“Quid pro quo, is it?” Alphinaud muttered. “Well, there is no denying that we owe you a debt. What say you, Hancock? Will you consider doing business with our entrepreneurial friend here?”

“Rest assured, Master Soroban, that in matters of trade the company does not discriminate,” Hancock promised. “We would be honored to hear your proposal.

“I promise you will not regret this, good sir!” Soroban the Kojin said. “Ah, yes – you sought passage across the Ruby Sea, did you not? I have a ship you can use.”

“You do?” Alphinaud laughed. “Well, then! Far be it from us to refuse! You have our deepest thanks.”

“And you mine!”

“I’m still annoyed he tried to deceive us, but at least we were prepared for it,” Lyse grumbled. “Even so, next time we should probably try to avoid running around Kugane in the middle of the night with half the city guard snapping at our heels…”

T’lorna nodded in agreement. Now all that was left to do was to wait to see how far Gyodo had betrayed them and whether or not this Soroban could really be trusted.

~*~*~*~

Careful questioning of Gyodo, once he regained consciousness, revealed that he had, indeed, seen Gosetsu. He had turned the samurai over to the Sekiseigumi at the behest of the Garlean Empire. Knowing that made it a simple matter to find and retrieve the man, according to Hancock. Just as in Ul’dah, a few well-placed bribes would be enough to secure Gosetsu’s freedom. And, with Soroban’s aid, they could soon be on their way across the Ruby Sea.

Thus it was that Hancock led T’lorna, Alisaie, and Lyse to the Sekiseigumi Barracks in order to secure Gosetsu’s freedom. However, when they arrived, they heard the sounds of combat coming from the courtyard. Hancock walked inside the barracks alone while the other four waited outside, listening to the events occurring just out of eyeshot.

“He said it wouldn’t take long, right?” Lyse asked after several minutes had passed. “Because this feels a bit long to me.”

“Calm down, Lyse,” Alisaie replied. “Everything is going to be all right. Much as I hate to admit it, I share Hancock’s dim view of government officials and their supposed incorruptibility. From what I’ve gleaned of the Far East, they’re probably exchanging lengthy pleasantries. There seems to be a correct way to do everything here, bribery being no exception. I say we leave them to it. Right, T’lorna?”

“Right, right,” Lyse sighed when T’lorna nodded in agreement with Alisaie. “Everything’s fine. Probably, I mean, it couldn’t be as bad as the last time we stood around waiting for something to happen…”

Just then, they heard Gosetsu shout with exuberance. “Have at you! AAAHHH!”

“Was that?” Lyse asked fearfully. “That was Gosetsu! I’m sure of it! He’s in trouble!” Lyse ran through the gate before Alisaie could stop her.

“Lyse wait…” Alisaie sighed. “I suppose we should follow her, then.” T’lorna nodded and the pair rushed through the gate to stand inside the courtyard. T’lorna stopped and grinned at what they saw.

Gosetsu stood with a wooden practice blade, victorious over one of the Sekiseigumi guards who was similarly armed. The younger man was panting hard as if he had just been put through a grueling duel while Gosetsu stood calmly, not even sweating.

“Victory to the samurai!” another of the Sekiseigumi shouted.

“Hah!” Gosetsu laughed, his tone deep and rich with amusement. “How many is that, now? Ten in a row?”

“Gosetsu!” Lyse shouted.

“Oho! This is a surprise,” the samurai replied. “What in blue blazes are you three doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Lyse retorted. “We’ve been looking all over for you – and then I suddenly heard you screaming!”

“Hmm…” he harrumphed. “It would seem there has been a misunderstanding. Allow me to explain…” With that, he launched into his tale.

“So, in summary,” Alisaie said when the samurai ran down, “you started a brawl with some off-duty imperial soldiers and were subsequently arrested by the Sekiseigumi, whom you somehow befriended and convinced to set you free if you could defeat a given number of them in single combat?”

“Ten bouts for my freedom, aye!” he agreed. “‘Tis but a pity you came too late to witness the last one.” He then turned to face the Sekiseigumi officer who had been standing watch over the duel. “And with that, I am free to go, yes?” he asked.

“Our word, once given, may not be broken – but we pray you make every effort to avoid future altercations,” the Sekiseigumi Blade said. “Circumstances notwithstanding, my lord, we are honored and grateful to have witnessed firsthand the skill of a Doman samurai.”

Just then, Hancock and another of the Sekiseigumi emerged from a nearby building. “Ah,” the blond man said with a shrug. “And we had just concluded negotiations. I gather my assistance was not required?” He glanced over at the three woman who all shrugged as Gosetsu threw his head back and laughed in amusement. Then, together, they all walked directly out of the gates of the barracks to stand on the bridge leading into Kugane. Gosetsu stopped there to speak once more.

“I must apologize,” he said. “That you endured such trials and tribulations in search of me…”

“There’s no need for that. You had no way of knowing we would come looking for you,” Alisaie protested. “You were after a ship to take you to Doma, yes? It just so happens that we have found a willing captain.”

“Truly?” Gosetsu asked. “What fortune!”

“We will tell you all about it back at the company offices,” Alisaie interjected. “Alphinaud and Tataru are waiting for us there.”

They quickly made their way back to the headquarters. Once inside, Alphinaud began to celebrate. “Gosetsu! Thank the Twelve you are unharmed!”

“As you can see, Master Alphinaud, I am the very picture of health!” Gosetsu laughed. “You!” he roared, rounding on Gyodo. “Vile fiend! Malevolent trickster! How kind the kami are to grant me vengeance so soon. But first, I demand you return the coin you so villainously embezzled from me!”

“Y-you have every right to be angry, good sir!” Gyodo said quickly. “Gladly would I return to you your coin… had I not been forced to repay certain gambling debts beforehand…”

“Settling that matter aside for the moment – where is Lady Yugiri!?” Alphinaud demanded. “Was she not traveling with you?”

Gosetsu nodded and stepped back, ceasing to loom over the Namazu. “For a time, aye, but we parted ways some while ago, the better to improve our chances of finding Lord Hien.”

“Lord Hien?” Lyse asked.

“Forgive me,” Gosetsu asked, “I have yet to explain. Lord Hien is the heir to Doma’s throne, and our master. His was a passionate voice for the cause of Doman liberation, and when we learned of the Emperor’s death, it only grew louder…”

“So you seized upon the opportunity and rose up to reclaim your freedom… only for your hopes to be dashed when Zenos led his army unto your lands,” Alphinaud replied musingly.

“The crown prince was a merciless foe. Against him and the might of the XIIth, we had no chance,” Gosetsu explained. “Once Lord Hien understood this, he bade Yugiri take to the sea with as many of our people as possible. He, however, would stand and fight, that they might have more time to escape… I remained by his side as well, and together we carried on our doomed war. And then, one day, in a fierce battle, we were separated. I knew not what became of him – only that he was beyond the Empire’s reach, and that to find him, I would need Yugiri’s aid. The situation grows more perilous by the day, for the new viceroy, Yotsuyu, is a black-hearted villainess who delights in the torment of our people. There is naught she would not do to further her pursuit of Lord Hien.”

“Thank you,” Alphinaud said. “I believe that makes matters a good deal clearer. It should please you to learn that we are come to aid the Doman Liberation Front in resuming their efforts to overthrow their imperial oppressors.”

“Then allow me to join you!” Gosetsu offered. “My inquiries here bore no fruit, hence my desire to return to Othard. Once there, I can lead you to our headquarters in Yanxia, where we shall all be reunited with Yugiri!”

“Mayhap not all,” Alisaie said. “Alphinaud’s talents would seem better applied here in Kugane, working closely with Tataru and Hancock to feed us intelligence. There is a Garlean embassy just down the road, after all…”

“While I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Alphinaud said in shock, “I should be glad to accompany you all…”

“As a solder in the field, so to speak?” Alisaie quipped. “Come now, Brother, a competent commander assigns his soldiers the tasks best suited to them – as you of all people should know. And you are so very good at espionage and intrigue.”

“‘For we all must serve, each in our own way,’” Alphinaud quoted, his head hanging in defeat. “Very well, it would seem my place is here.”

“Soroban is waiting at the pier,” Tataru reminded them. “Have fun, you lot!”

They quickly made their way down to Pier #2 where Soroban and his boat awaited them to take them into the Ruby Sea in search of a way to Yanxia and Yugiri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my shoulders have been bothering me less this week. That let me get a chapter done. I'm hoping to finish out one for next week over the weekend and start building up some serious padding again over the next couple of weeks so that we might even have some bonus chapters in the foreseeable future.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me! Your comments mean the world to me. :)


	52. The Ruby Tithe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we move into the Ruby Sea for the first half of that zone's arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square's universe.

No sooner had they left Kugane to seek their way across the Ruby Sea than Soroban had warned them about the Confederacy. The Confederacy was a group of pirates who, seeking to oppose the Garlean Empire, would lay claim to any ship not part of their organization that tried to cross “their” waters. The only way to avoid such a fate was to pay the Confederacy’s “Ruby Tithe.”

Lyse and T’lorna, both eager to use their muscles and work out their stress, had chosen to swim the short distance from the Kugane docks to the meeting place Soroban had pointed out to them. As she swam through the warm, salty waters, T’lorna wondered how her son was doing in Ilsabard. She had spoken with him only briefly since she had left him in the care of his father’s tribe. His grandparents had been full of reassurances that Noah was settling in just fine and that he was enjoying being among those who looked so much like him.

As she swam, she wondered. Would she ever have another child? From what Y’shtola had told her, T’lorna did not think she would ever be able to bear laying with another man even if G’raha never again emerged from the Crystal Tower. Would it, instead, be one of her grandchildren or great-grandchildren who would take her place as shaman for the Condor tribe? Relaxing her control for a short spell, she allowed her special abilities to filter her vision. She could see the souls of everything around her from the solid, steady spirits of the rocks jutting out of the water to the flitting, ever-shifting souls of the fish swimming beneath her. She could see Lyse’s soul shining in red for her passion, orange for her will to fight, and tinged with grey for her sorrow in losing Papalymo. She could see the aura of many souls in the settlement ahead and quickly closed her vision, tightening her mental control so she would not see that which was not open for her to see. Such was the burden of a shaman-born – knowing when to open her vision and when to keep it closed so that others might have the privacy to work out their fates.

Soroban was able to introduce them to the men who were behind the Ruby Tithe and, through him, they were able to determine the cost it would take to cross into Yanxia.

“…The sea has been quite tempestuous of late,” Tansui was saying to Soroban. “I cannot say with confidence that you would reach your destination safely – unless you tripled it.”

Soroban nearly leapt backward in surprise. “D-do you take me for a fool?” he demanded. “I know the price, as do all!”

“Alas, we live in interesting times,” Tansui said flatly. “As you came from Kugane, I should think I need not tell you that. The shadow of war looms. The wise and the cautious shirk our waters and our custom, and the foolhardy sharpen their knives in anticipation,” he explained.

“Meaning…?” Lyse asked, not clear on why those things would have caused the price of the Ruby Tithe to triple.

“Sir! Sir!” one of the villagers said as he ran up to where they were gathered in negotiation. “You’ve got to come quickly. The bastards’re at it again! I tried to convince them to stop, but they weren’t having it.”

“Very well,” Tansui sighed. “I will be there shortly. A proposition,” he said, turning to Soroban. “Your comrades strike me as a worthwhile investment. I would not hear men name me a cat before koban, so I shall consider their tithe paid – not for what they have done, but for what I expect they will do.” With that, Tansui ran off back to the small gathering of buildings, leaving Soroban and the others behind.

“I’m not sure what to make of that man,” Alisaie muttered, “but at least the nature of or tithe is settled. For now.”

“What was that he and the other pirate were talking about?” Lyse asked. “Maybe we ought to go and have a look.” With that, the others hurried to follow Tansui. The Hyur had left the shelter of buildings and headed north, deeper into the Ruby Sea. T’lorna spied out a formation of rock from which they could observe as Tansui and his companion waded into the water far enough out to speak to others on a small sailboat. She motioned to the others and they fell in behind her, silent so that they could all overhear what Tansui had to say. As she glanced around, T’lorna noticed that Soroban was no longer among them.

“Gentlemen!” he said, his voice pitched loud to carry out over the waters, “I am told you were most unreceptive to my associate’s requests. I realize you do not look kindly on the Confederacy and her ways. But if you refuse to pay the Ruby Tithe, your safety in these waters cannot be assured.”

“Spare me your concern, pirate,” the Imperial pilot shouted. “Your feeble attempts at extortion will not work on us. You remain at large because we allow it – because you are such insignificant little pests that we see no need to swat you. But if you wish to risk the ire of the viceroy, by all means, fire upon an imperial vessel. Give us a reason to bring the full might of the Garlean Empire to bear against your pathetic fleet,” he taunted.

“Bastards!” the young man with Tansui shouted angrily. He unslung his bow and moved to nock an arrow before Tansui stepped in front of him, raising an arm to block the shot.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “Surely the fact that you have such limitless resources at your disposal gives you all the more reason to spare some few coins for the less fortunate?” Tansui said loudly.

“All talk, just as I thought,” the Imperial officer replied. “Come – let us away. I have no time for this rubbish.”

Tansui and his comrade watched as the small boat sailed off. As they turned in defeat and headed back towards the south, T’lorna and the others abandoned their hiding spot and rushed up to them.

“We’re all the same to them,” Lyse muttered, staring off in the direction the boat had gone, “aren’t we? Savages to be ruled or slaughtered.”

“They’ve always balked at paying the Ruby Tithe,” Tansui replied. “But they were never so eager to pick a fight… The problem, you see, is that many of my comrades in the Confederacy are of Doman descent – and the acting viceroy… well, she’s none too fond of Domans, to say the least,” he sighed. “If we take any action to hinder the safe passage of an imperial vessel, she’ll accuse us of attempting to foment rebellion and brand us enemies of the Empire – which we can ill afford to be. Like the man said, we’re all talk.”

“And where do the Kojin stand in all this?” Alisaie asked.

“With the winning side, of course,” Tansui replied. “They are mercenaries to a fault, eager to offer their services without coercion. The shellback could tell you more… though something tells me he would rather not.”

“I don’t understand,” Lyse sighed. “If the Garleans are causing the Confederacy this much trouble – and if so many of you are Doman to begin with – why aren’t you willing to fight back?”

Tansui laughed bitterly. “Spoken like a true friend of the Doman Liberation Front,” he chuckled. “If you’re planning to rouse us with noble words and grand promises – don’t bother. We all know what the imperial army can do. Compared to them, we’re boys with boats,” he sighed tiredly. “Besides, what ties a man may once have held to his home are forsaken upon joining the Confederacy. We look out for none but our own.” Lyse moved as if she would speak further or, perhaps, punch Tansui but Alisaie moved to block her. “Be that as it may,” he continued, “our livelihood is under threat, and the captain will need to decide soon whether we are to go down in a blaze of glory or bow and scrape for crumbs from the Emperor’s table. All while our friend the viceroy continues her purge of Doma’s ‘radical elements,’” he sighed. “I believe she’s holding court in one of the fishing villages even as we speak.”

“That she-devil!” Gosetsu shouted. “Her perfidy knows no bounds! She must be stopped,” he said firmly to T’lorna. “Come, let us find Soroban and put to sea at once!” T’lorna nodded in agreement. If it would shorten the struggle here in the East, she was in favor of it.

“Tell the others that these ones have paid,” Tansui said to his comrade. “We all have places to be.” The two men then left on their errand, leaving Gosetsu, Alisaie, Lyse, and T’lorna in the shallow shores of the Ruby Sea.

“What are we waiting for?” Gosetsu demanded as he scouted for Soroban. “Come, come! Soroban cannot have gone far! Though, now that I think on it, it is passing strange that he left without warning. Mayhap he did not wish to be seen by his Kojin brethren? I doubt he thought to leave us behind, but nevertheless, it may be prudent to return to his ship. Or at leas to the Confederate encampment,” the samurai suggested.

As one, the group headed back to the south, seeking out the few buildings where they had originally met Tansui. Just before them, standing under a tree, they spied Soroban.

“Oh, my friends!” he proclaimed. “A thousand pardons! As you may have guessed, I was reluctant to be seen in your company by my Red brothers. Ours is a… complex relationship,” he sighed. “I pray you do not misinterpret their actions as a reflection of our allegiances as a whole. You… you understand?” he said hastily. “Kami be praised!” he added when T’lorna nodded. “Too often are the shell-less quick to judge all Kojin for the deeds of one. Right, then. Now that our business with Tansui is concluded, we can traverse the Ruby Sea without fear!”

~*~*~*~

It turned out not to be as simple as they thought. First T’lorna had been tasked with warning the Confederacy that she and her comrades were free to move about without paying the Tithe. Then, they were tasked with seeking out the Confederates and Soroban’s allies. As T’lorna arrived at one of the many small docks where her comrades had gathered, she listened to the talk amongst them.

“You have spoken with the Confederates up above then?” Soroban asked. She nodded. “Excellent! If you are ready to depart, we may do so at any time.”

“All aboard,” T’lorna said flatly.

“Then let us be off!” Soroban said, sounding relieved. “I shall deliver you to the fishing village of Isari.”

“Wait,” Alisaie interjected. “Tansui said that the viceroy was ‘holding court’ in one of the fishing villages, did he not? Should Isari chance to be the village in question, we could instantly find ourselves surrounded by imperial soldiers. I think it safer to come ashore some distance away,” she argued.

“Very well,” Soroban agreed. “I know just the place.” They climbed into his boat and let him set the course. Soon, they found themselves being let off in the shallows of one of the many isles in the Ruby Sea. “Here we are!” he announced. “I am reasonably certain none bore witness to our approach. And with this, I believe I have fulfilled the terms of our agreement!”

“Aye, you have,” Gosetsu said. “You have my deepest thanks, Soroban. Truly, we are blessed to have befriended such a clever and industrious merchant!”

“Oh, you are much too kind, good sir!” Soroban protested. “I know not where your path may lead, but I wish you the very best, and hope that we shall meet again.” With that, he waved and then returned to his boat, making his own way through the territory of the Ruby Sea.

“So we’ve finally arrived in Othard,” Lyse said once he was gone. “All we need do now is, uh… liberate Doma,” she finished weakly.

“Ah, yes… that,” Alisaie said. “Look… daunting though it is, we do have one thing in our favor: the element of surprise. Unlike in Gyr Abania, the imperials don’t know we’re here. Admittedly, that may be our _only_ advantage, considering how few of us there are…”

“Well, I expect the Doman Liberation Front will even up the odds a bit,” Lyse replied. “But before all that, we need to see if this is the fishing village Tansui was talking about.”

“It may well be,” Gosetsu said as he scanned the horizon. “I smell ceruleum on the breeze.”

Together, they made their way inland towards the village. They were careful to keep out of sight. Once they drew near, they hid in the flotsam off-shore. Ahead of them, in the village proper, dozens of imperial soldiers were making sport of the civilians who called that enclave home.

“Even accounting for the rebellion,” Alisaie whispered, “such indiscriminate shows of force seem pointlessly excessive…”

“If only you knew how commonplace such scenes have become,” Gosetsu replied. “Hmm… are we too late?”

“Over there – someone’s coming!” Lyse hissed.

They fell silent as they watched two people – one a small, slight, long-haired Doman woman dressed in rich, imperial robes shadowed by Grynewaht, an imperial agent that T’lorna had faced quite a few times already. The woman seemed completely self-possessed and confident, smoking some kind of leaf through a long, dark tube.

“It is she!” Gosetsu whispered. “Sworn enemy of Doman – of my master! The traitor who sold her homeland to the Garleans – Yotsuyu!”

“The viceroy herself,” Lyse breathed. “And look – behind her! Isn’t that…?” T’lorna nodded. It was clear who her guard was. They focused on the scene in the fishing village.

Yotsuyu spat smoke to the side and gestured contemptuously. “Filth and squalor every I look,” she sighed. “How very Doman. What I wouldn’t do for a drink…” The villagers seemed to squirm before her. “Come now, you’ve no reason to look so afraid!” she taunted. “You have lived through a quarter of a century of Garlean rule, remember? ‘Tis better to bend with the wind than stand tall and be broken,” she taunted. “Therein lies… hope. Therein lies freedom. I come before you today seeking affirmation. A heartfelt declaration. You are free to answer me as you see fit – yet even the least among you should know the correct response. Should.” Just then a red-shelled Kojin threw one man into their midst as Yotsuyu continued. “A resident of your village,” she explained, “one of your neighbors, mayhap your friend – was detained by the Kojin this morning. They say he was attempting to flee to Kugane, but we both know that simply isn’t true, don’t we? Have you anything to say?” The villagers stood silent for a long moment before the viceroy sighed. “A bit slow, this one,” she muttered. “Is there anyone more sensible among you? Have any of you anything to say? To swear?”

One of their youths ran forward, bowing to the viceroy. “My lady,” he said, “I swear to serve the Empire! To do… whatever is asked of me… and never disobey…”

“Well said that man,” the viceroy laughed. “Of course… it wouldn’t do to simply take you at your word,” she warned. She strode up to him and presented him with a pistol. The young one took it in confusion. “Kill him,” Yotsuyu ordered. “Surely you can do that much? He must be guilty of something or other, or he wouldn’t have attempted to flee the Empire.”

The young man stared at the pistol. “I have a family…” he groaned. “Kami forgive me… Kami forgive me…” he pleaded as he turned and pointed the weapon at the traitor to his village. He pulled the trigger, killing the other man.

“Very, very good!” the viceroy laughed. “I’ve always had a soft spot for men like you.” Without a pause, she gestured to other villagers. “Next, I want you to shoot those tow over there. Too old to work, you understand – a burden on the Empire, and we can’t have that.”

“But… they’re my parents,” the youth protested. “You can’t expect me to…”

The viceroy nodded at him. Clearly she _did_ expect him to kill his own parents if that was her desire. He stepped back, shaking his head in shock. He stood, pointing the pistol at the black-haired viceroy, and then collapsed in front of her.

“We will show them no mercy,” T’lorna muttered from their hiding place.

“Stop and think for a moment!” Alisaie warned them. “If you go charging in now, every one of those villagers is as good as dead! We must consider the wider picture,” she continued. “If we act recklessly, we risk alerting the Garleans to our presence here, making it that much harder for us to work with the local rebels – to say nothing of the reprisals ordinary civilians would be made to suffer.”

“Open your eyes, girl,” Gosetsu said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “they are already suffering! Let me go – I am putting an end to this madness! I will approach the village alone and identify myself,” he continued. “As a former leader of the rebellion and a known fugitive, they will wish to detain me until they are certain they have learned all I know. Use this time to make your plans!”

“You saw what those monsters did to the villagers!” Lyse argued. “Who knows what they’ll do to you – assuming they don’t kill you where you stand!”

“We live and die at the pleasure of the kami,” Gosetsu replied. “My fate is in their hands, and no other’s. If it be of any comfort, I am no stranger to chains.”

“You can’t expect us to stand idly by as a comrade goes marching off to his death!” Lyse protested. “And this is nothing like Kugane!”

“Nor is it like the Reach, Lyse,” Alisaie said softly. “Or the Wall. Let him go.” She then directed her words to Gosetsu. “Hold out for as long as you can, but remember: noble sacrifices are to remain an absolute last resort. I wish I could say it won’t come to that, but only the gods know how we’re going to get you and the others out in one piece. A miracle, perchance…”

“A great tower stands to the north and east,” Gosetsu replied. “Look to its occupants for aid and succor. Together, you may yet find your miracle. Now, leave this place. I must go.”

Before they could protest, Gostesu ran into the village just as Yotsuyu was picking up the pistol from the prone villager at her feet.

“Tsk, tsk,” she muttered. “Another idiot like all the rest. I’m beginning to think it may be something fundamental, something intrinsic, something quintessentially Doman to ignore the simple truth: you can’t do a damn thing if you’re dead.”

“Enough, Yotsuyu!” Gosetsu shouted as her finger began to squeeze the trigger.

“Well now…” she sighed, “this is a surprise.”

“Hear me, Yotsuyu: cease this farce, here and now, and I shall surrender myself to you. Refuse, and all shall answer to my blade,” Gostesu promised.

Yotsuyu lowered the pistol. “Bring him to the tavern,” she ordered her imperial guards. They surrounded him and escorted him to the tavern as the viceroy had ordered. Meanwhile, his companions watched on from their hiding spot.

“I hate it as much as you,” Alisaie muttered to T’lorna. “Maybe even more. Every fiber of my being was crying out to intervene, but… But what’s done is done. Gosetsu’s gamble has gifted us the time we need to find a solution. He bade us seek aid at the distant tower, yes? For want of a better idea, I say we do just that – while taking care to avoid the imperials.”

T’lorna sighed and followed the others over to the tower that seemed to reach into the sky. It was set off on an isle not too distant from the one upon which they had observed the viceroy. It took less than a quarter of an hour for them to swim to it and, once there, they stopped to study it.

“We seem to have evaded their patrols so far,” Alisaie whispered.

“What is that tower, anyway?” Lyse asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“According to my map, we are on Onokoro, and the tower is known as Heaven-on-High,” Alisaie replied. “A mysterious structure built long ago by persons unknown… Oh gods, listen to me,” she groaned. “I’m starting to sound like Alphinaud. Next thing you know, I’ll be saying things like ‘As you are doubtless already aware…’ Hm? Over there!” she hissed. “Do you see it?” Their gazes fell upon a dead creature that looked to be something from the sea. “Doesn’t look like it’s been dead long. Whoever did this, they’re a good shot. I can’t see a single stray arrow.”

Alisaie’s words cut to T’lorna’s heart. G’raha had been a fine shot with a bow and arrow. The Miqo’te lowered her head and strove to control her features. She could not break down now just at a stray thought.

A loud grumbling signaled that other creatures like the one that lay dead were creeping up the shore. T’lorna quickly dispatched a pair of them while Alisaie and Lyse made their escape. She then followed them to the settlement near the strange tower that Lyse had spied and Alisaie had named as “Heaven on High.”

The village proved to be the headquarters of the Confederacy. Tansui was there and, with a little persuading, introduced them to the leaders of the rebel group who determined and were paid the Ruby Tithe. Rasho, their leader, was quick to agree to help them but only after they had proven themselves to him. Tansui had explained that anyone who joined the Confederacy was forced to renounce all previous ties and swear themselves only to the Confederacy. Still, Gosetsu had bade them seek out aid from the Confederacy and while they were unwilling to foreswear earlier ties, the three women were willing to see what they could glean from the group.

They spent time speaking with various members of the Confederacy, learning that, while they were not eager to seek out a confrontation with the Empire, under the right circumstances, they might very well rise up to throw off the Garleans. The three worked hard to prove themselves to the Confederacy and, at last, were surprised to discover that there were Kojin working to aid the Empire. They made their way back to Tansui and Rasho to report.

“I speak only the truth,” Alisaie said in reply to Tansui’s chiding. “The Confederacy will not be spared Yotsuyu’s wrath. You have always known this – that one day you would have no choice but to stand up to the Empire. I say to you that day is today, and come once more to ask that you join us in the fight.”

“How convenient that recent events should lend such credence to your claims,” Tansui sighed. “Tell me, do death and destruction always follow in your wake?”

“They had no part in it, Tansui,” Rasho retorted. “You know this. We all know this.” Tansui shrugged but stayed silent. “They came and took our Doman brothers,” Rasho continued. “They will torture them for her sport – murder them for her satisfaction. So we attack, and get butchered for our trouble… or do naught, and let them have their pound of flesh.” He sighed and paused before speaking again. “If this be our choice, I say we suffer the ignominy. We endure. We survive. There is no better path. Until the day our enemy is grown weaker, and we stronger, there can be no retribution. We will wait for a sign. Such is the judgement of the Confederacy.”

“So that’s it, then,” Lyse growled. “You’re just going to abandon them. To her. They’d die for you, you know – for the Confederacy. They would die for you, but you wouldn’t even think to risk your lives for theirs!” Alisaie watched as Tansui hung his head in shame and Rasho balled his fists until his knuckles cracked.

“I have one last idea,” the Elezen said softly, “if you will allow. I’m afraid it’s not very good as ideas go – it’s exceedingly reckless, in fact, and you may well come to despise me for ever having suggested it. Assuming we survive, that is. The question being: do you trust me?”

“Do you even need to ask?” T’lorna replied just as softly.

“We can’t stand by and let innocent people suffer – here or anywhere else,” Lyse added. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Then let us roll the dice,” Alisaie replied. She stepped up to address Tansui and Rasho directly. “If it’s a sign you want, we shall give you one. One rousing enough to make you drive every Garlean out of Isari without a second thought. You are wary of invoking the ire of the imperial forces stationed in Doma, correct? Known then that once we have rescued our comrade and freed Isari, we mean to liberate the nation as a whole. You will doubtless require assurances that we are capable of achieving this – and that is only fair,” she conceded. “Accordingly, we shall demonstrate our seriousness by depriving the Garleans of a key ally: the Kojin.”

“What, the three of you? Just like that?” Tansui scoffed.

“Actually, my esteemed colleague here will attend to it on her own,” Alisaie replied, gesturing to T’lorna. “But the how of it is not your concern – only the outcome. If we succeed, you help us liberate Isari. If we fail, you lose nothing. A simple enough wager – if you have the stones for it.”

Tansui shrugged and then turned to Rasho. “The little miss does make it hard to refuse, does she not?” he asked.

“Words are air,” Rasho replied. “We will weigh you by your deeds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I know I said I was going to do one chapter per zone but since most zones contain two major arcs, that puts me doing 90 - 100 pages a chapter. I decided to break down and split them up. You're getting this chapter (Ruby Sea pt 1) really late (I had it ready to go Christmas Day) and you'll probably get another chapter (Ruby Sea pt 2) later this week. I'll try to put up a third chapter (Yanxia pt 1) as well provided I can get through it.


	53. The Jewel of the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we finish up with the Ruby Sea and meet T'lorna's new free company allies. Props to those of them who said I could use their characters. Alliance of Kings is awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square-Enix's universe.

That was how the three found themselves setting out to meet with the Blue Kojin, the more friendly group. To that end, they had set out for the isle of Bekko where the Blue Kojin made their home. It took some doing to explore the island and find the cavern that led down to where the Blue Kojin made their home. However, once there, the trio were welcomed by Soroban who had vanished earlier only to reappear when he was most needed. He introduced them to the people of the settlement called Tamamizu, a city built half within the island cave and half as a bubble beneath the waters of the Ruby Sea. The leader, a man known as Bunchin listened to their case at Soroban’s insistence.

“Welcome, guests,” he said with a bow of respect. “Gratitude to you for aiding Soroban in his negotiations.”

“We thank you for your hospitality, honored elder,” Alisaie said politely. “Pray forgive me my brevity, but I wish to discuss an urgent matter…”

With that, the three women explained the task that had sent them to the Blue Kojins’ home. Bucnhin listened carefully and then nodded.

“So… you seek to compel our Red brothers to forgo hostilities for a time,” he summarized.

“That’s right,” Lyse agreed. “We know your two claims have your… differences, but what with your being… brothers and all, we thought you might be able to share some… secret knowledge… or something?”

“From far above, you have journeyed here in search of our wisdom,” Bunchin muttered. “You shall have it. All creation is a tapestry, through which the divine is interwoven,” he explained. “Kami are legion, and hey can be found in the great and the small. Though they come and go as they please, they favor certain vessels. The ancient. The precious. The exquisite. We Kojin cover these vessels, these treasures. We go forth and bring them home, to keep them safe, and bask in their divinity. They bring prosperity and joy to us and our children. Yet how were we to seek these treasures above if we made enemies of the Garlean Empire, power and far-reaching as they are?” he demanded. “Wiser to join with them. So resolved the Red Kojin.

“Cautiously and carefully, for the Garleans are blind to the divine,” Soroban added. “Nor will they suffer their subjects to see. So the Red masquerade as mercenaries who seek money and power and never speak of their faith in the presence of their masters. To honor the divine, they deny it. A twisted and misguided path.”

“Aye, aye,” Bunchin nodded. “Kami will not abide such foolishness, this they shall learn to their sorrow. While our Red brothers live by the sword, we Blue Kojin uphold the old ways, engaging in trade and valuing peace. Alas, men distinguish not between our clans, and judgement for the doings of the Red falls unjustly upon the Blue. Thus do mean grow more and more reluctant to deal with us, denying us our treasures. This cannot continue!”

“On that point we are in agreement,” Alisaie said. “You are willing to aid our cause, then?”

“There is a way that the Red may be driven to retreated into their shells,” Bunchin replied. “But to share with you this knowledge is to reveal secrets of the divine. Assurances must first be had. Trust forged. A bargain struck.”

“Well said, Elder!” Soroban agreed. “In great crises is great profit to be had!”

“Delight not overmuch in such things, Soroban,” Bunchin warned him. “Now, tell our guests what must be done.”

“As you wish!”

“Well, I’ve no idea what we’ve gotten ourselves into, but so far, so good, right?” Lyse chuckled.

Soroban proceeded to tell them about the search for the Kojins’ most priceless treasure, the Yasakani-no-Magatama. When he explained that the relic was lost at the bottom of the sea, Lyse pointed out that it would be difficult for the three women to conduct such a search without becoming lost themselves.

Soroban’s response was how T’lorna came to find herself swimming through the depths quite easily, breathing the water as if it were air, and wondering at her own sanity in agreeing to this mad plan.

They first swam for the underwater village of Sui-no-Sato, a place where the ‘shelless’ Raen lived. Soroban had suggested stopping there to see if any of their own divers had spied the jewel.

The three strangers were not warmly welcomed within the village and T’lorna felt as if she could understand why, in part. These people must have fled from the Garleans and sought out refuge in the one place where they would not be easily found. To see strangers in their village, people unknown to them and arriving without friendly escorts, must be troubling indeed. Not to mention that, shelless as they were, they probably tried to steer clear of any conflicts between the Red and the Blue Kojin.

When Shiosai confirmed most of what T’lorna expected, explaining only that they had fled to this place ages ago and were under the rule of some benevolent sovereign who, by and large, allowed them to live in peace. Thus he, as the leader of the village, was reluctant to play any part in their endeavor no matter how archly Alisaie rebuked him for his rudeness.

“Come on,” T’lorna whispered. “We’re not going to find help here. They headed out and Alisaie stopped just in front of the bubble-dome gate that would send them back out into the depths of the Ruby Sea.

“We seem to have reached an impasse. And to make matters worse, every solution I can think of will only take more time…” she sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas, do you, T’lorna?”

“We could ask the villagers if they know anything,” the Warrior of Light pointed out. “It beats trying to talk Shiosai around or finding some Red Kojin to persuade.”

No sooner had T’lorna spoken than they heard someone calling out to them.

“You are the ones who came from above, yes? If we could have a moment of your time?” The three looked over to see an older Raen couple approaching them. The man continued to speak. “Mine apologies. I did not mean to startle you. My name is Ihanami, and this my wife Yunagi. We were wondering… Have you any news from Doma? If so, we should like very much to hear it.”

“May I ask why?” Alisaie replied.

“…If you must. Our daughter fought in the rebellion. We have heard naught from her since. ‘Twould be too much to hope that you know of her, but… her name is Yugiri.”

“I thought you looked familiar!” T’lorna said as she stared at the Raen woman. “Your daughter favors you much.” With that, she launched into the story of how they had met Yugiri and all the various adventures they had shared. By the time T’lorna wound down, the couple were looking stunned and impressed.

“Kami be praised!” Yunagi laughed. “She lives! She lives…”

“We’re looking for her too, actually, but I’m sure she’s all right,” Lyse added.

“We had no idea she hailed from Sui-no-Sato. How did she come to serve Doma as a shinobi?” Alisaie asked.

“It all began when she was a little girl,” Yugiri’s father replied. “She and another child crept out of the village, having grown curious about the outside world. To Doma they went, where they met a young boy – a proud son of Yanxia. His tales of imperial oppression left a lasting impression on her. When she returned, she spoke passionately of the Domans’ plight and urged us to take the boy in. But my wife and I would not hear of it. We thought the matter closed, but she never forgot his words. She became convinced that the Garleans would one day come for us. And it was in search of the strength to defend us that she left, years later, to learn the ways of the shinobi… When the Ruby Princess learned of this, she forbade Yugiri’s return, lest she bring misfortune to us all.”

“We protested the judgement, but there was naught we could do,” Yunagi sighed. “And so our daughter, who wanted only to keep her people safe… Surely there is something we can do for these people? They who gave her aid and succor when no other would?” she said, turning to her husband.

Ihanami paused and considered this for a moment. “…I am but a humble stonemason,” he said carefully. “But if it is the Yasakani-no-Magatama you seek, I may yet be of some assistance to you. The jewel is known to possess an unusual property. To the naked eye it is as jade, but when bathed in a particular light, it shimmers with a divine resplendence. I have mined similar materials before. To find them, one must use these lamps,” he said as he pulled a special mining lamp out of his satchel. “They cast an invisible light, under which the stones sparkle. In the deepest depths, they are invaluable.” He handed it to T’lorna who put it in her own satchel. “There is a sunken ship to the east. Though the currents may have spirited away her cargo, you should begin your search there.”

“Thank you so much,” Alisaie laughed. “We will do just that!”

“I hope you find that which you seek,” Yunagi replied. “I only wish there were something more we could do to assist you… Know that you will be in my prayers. And… when next you see our daughter, pray tell her not a day goes by that her parents and her brothers do not think of her.”

“I’ll make certain she knows,” T’lorna sighed, thinking of her own son and hoping that he was still happy among his father’s tribe. “I know that my own son is in my thoughts constantly. Perhaps one day, when things are more settled, I will be able to bring him to this village so that he can meet the parents of one of the finest fighting women I have ever known.”

With that, the five bowed politely to each other before the three women headed out with the lamp that would make their search for the jewel possible.

~*~*~*~

They spent hours swimming through the wreckage of the boat and the coral that had already grown up around it before the lamp caused something to sparkle and shine in the distance. Moving confidently, drawing closer to it, T’lorna finally pried the jewel loose and then swam back through the wreckage to find and gather in Lyse and Alisaie.

“I swear, looking for a needle in a haystack would be quicker,” Alisaie said, her voice muffled by the water. “Gosetsu will have died of old age by the time we finish. You haven’t found anything, have you, T’lorna?” T’lorna showed Alisaie the gem she had found and the young Elezen laughed with delight. “This… this is it! Yasakani-no-Magatama, exactly as Soroban described! It would seem that our fortunes have finally changed for the better! Much as I would like to return and thank Yugiri’s parents for their assistance, time is of the essence. I say we make for Tamamizu at once. Hold on to it for now, T’lorna. Once we arrive, present it to the elder, and then we can finally learn how to deal with the Red Kojin.”

The three began the long swim back to Tamamizu where, once they arrived, they were greeted eagerly by Bunchin and Soroban.

“You are returned, and with the Yasakani-no-Magatama, I trust?” the elder asked. T’lorna handed it over and the elder examined it closely. “Yes,” he said, a thrill of excitement in his voice, “there is no mistake. Well done, well done.”

“So… about the Red Kojin,” Lyse said. “You said there was a way to make them retreat into their shells? Are you ready to tell us now?”

“I did indeed, and yes… I am,” Bunchin sighed. “For you see, divinity resides not only in material vessels, but in individuals. In laying claim to this most sacred of treasures, you have demonstrated an affinity with the divine. TO treat with men and women such as you is to invite fortune into our homes. Gladly will we aid your cause.” Lyse took a moment to jump in celebration but then Bunchin turned to Soroban. “All is ready, Soroban?” he asked. “Then give them what they require.”

Soroban plucked a dagger out of his belt and handed it to Alisaie. From what T’lorna could see, it was clearly a ceremonial knife of some sort, something which Alisaie also noticed and asked about.

“Before this blade, that which is sealed shall open,” Bunchin said. “The treasure vault of the Kojin, on the Isle of Zekki. It is there that our most prized relics, be they of the Red or the Blue, are kept safe. Fiercely do the Red guard it, for its contents are more precious than their lives. Were the vault to be attacked, their response would by necessity be immediate. Kojin would be summoned from malms around to defend their treasures.”

“…And were we to sow enough chaos, the Reds in service to the imperials would have no choice but to answer the call as well,” Alisaie mused.

“Giving the Confederacy the sign they’ve been waiting for!” Lyse realized. “Without the Kojin, the imperials don’t have nearly enough troops in Isari to hold off the pirates.”

“ _However_ …” Bunchin warned, “you must understand that the vault is holy ground: home to a thousand thousand kami. To intrude upon it without paying the proper respects is a sacrilege we cannot condone.”

“So… if we were to pay the proper respects, it would be all right?” Lyse asked. “Great! How do we do that, again?”

“The Yasakani-no-Magatama is one of the three most coveted treasures of the Kojin,” Bunchin explained. “The other two lie within the vault. Were you to deliver the jewel unto the others, and thereby make them whole, the kami may forgive your trespass and instead delight in your… mischief-making.” With, that, Bunchin returned the stone to T’lorna.

“So… if I understand you correctly,” Alisaie said, “you want us to take the sacred jewel coveted by your Red brothers and deliver it to their treasure vault?”

“More or less,” Bunching agreed. “The Yasakani-no-Magatama belongs on the Isle of Zekki. So long as it finds its way there, we are satisfied.”

“The Magatama has chosen you to bear it to its brothers,” Soroban added. “Had it not, you would never have found it. And we would not be having this conversation. I shall inform the Confederacy of your plans, and bid them make ready to act when the time is right.”

“The Isle of Zekki lies to the west of Sui-no-Sato,” Bunchin continued. “Look for a cave beneath the waters. May fortune favor you in this and all other endeavors.”

Lyse, T’lorna, and Alisaie moved off to the side to make their plans.

“Right, then,” Alisaie said with a grin. “I am not normally in the habit of sneaking into heavily guarded treasure vaults, but if this is the only way to convince the Confederacy to act, then so be it. We should be prepared for a fight. The bigger the better. The kind where you’ll wish you had seven of your most battle-hardened friends at your side…” she added, glancing meaningfully at T’lorna who mentally made a note to call up Jinpu and see if any of their free company were nearby.

~*~*~*~

T’lorna was in luck where finding seven comrades was concerned. Jinpu made a few calls and found another free company in the region who they were on good terms with. They agreed to be prepared to answer the summoning signal from a small, portable aetheryte T’lorna stopped in to Kugane to pick up which would allow the seven fighters to teleport directly to her. It would hold only enough aether for one use but, with the research coming out of the Arcanists Guild, such items were becoming more common.

Meanwhile, Alisaie and Lyse had swum through the depths and believed they had found the cave that Soroban and Bunchin had told them about. Through their linkpearls, they guided T’lorna to them. The large, red, glowing lamps that lined the path up the cavern made it somewhat obvious and easy to find, once you knew what you were looking for.

“Assuming this is the right cave,” Alisaie said, “it should lead us right into he heart of the Isle of Zekki.”

“Have you got a plan for once we get to the isle?” Lyse asked.

“Hmm…” Alisaie mused. “How about two of us get the guards’ attention while the third heads straight for the vault? Afterwards, the other two join them there, and together we make a stand. With our numbers, it’s not feasible to do anything more complicated, I think.”

“Fine by me,” Lyse agreed. “I like simple plans. I’ll be one of the decoys, then.”

“You read my mind,” Alisaie nodded. “I also had a mind to ask T’lorna to be one, given her peerless martial prowess.” T’lorna nodded in agreement and then Alisaie continued. “Then it’s settled. You two will make your way through the stronghold, creating as much chaos as possible. You know, have some fun,” she teased. “Meanwhile, I will attempt to locate the vault and gain entry with the ceremonial knife. When I am inside, I will contact you via linkpearl.”

“Right!” Lyse agreed. “Come on, T’lorna! We’ve got work to do!”

With that, the three set off on their various errands. Once they surfaced in a lake on the island, they split up. T’lorna quickly reached into her belt pouch and equipped her paladin soulstone, feeling confident as her armor materialized around her. She noticed that Lyse had gone off one direction and could hear the sounds of battle already. Moving off the other direction, T’lorna quickly engaged with several Red Kojin, easily slaying them and leaving their bodies behind to create fear and chaos as she moved further through the island.

She spied Lyse ahead in the distance and hurried up to her.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes!” Lyse said breathlessly. T’lorna was surprised – she herself scarcely felt winded even though they had been fighting for the better part of three hours now as they made their way through the Red Kojin stronghold. “I hope Alisaie’s all right too…”

Just then, T’lorna’s linkpearl chimed. “T’lorna, Lyse, can you hear me?” Alisaie asked. Both women murmured that they could. “I’ve found the vault! Head northwest. There’s a passage leading deeper within. Hurry!”

Continuing to fight, this time together, Lyse and T’lorna made their way to the passage and then up through it until they found Alisaie hiding in the shadows near a large stone door.

“There you are!” Alisaie said in relief. “The entrance is straight ahead. Good timing, I might add. It sounds like the whole garrison is headed straight for us…”

Without further thought, the three pushed open the door and ran into the vault, the Red Kojin hot on their heels.

“Thieves!” one of the Red Kojin howled. “Thieves! Come to steal our most precious treasures! You will pay for this sacrilege!”

“That’s the spirit!” Lyse joked. “Now don’t be shy – I’m more than ready for another round!”

“Seize them!” the Kojin leader ordered. But, before the Kojin could move, T’lorna sensed a power tingling in the air around her. She looked over to see two items drifting off the altars the Kojin had built. They flew through the air, dancing and circling each other as the gemstone she carried began to glow and then flew out of her satchel to join the other two. The three items spun in a circle before settling down, one gem on each side of a sword. A voice rumbled in the air of the vault.

“Who…? Who hat made us whole?” it demanded. The voice was deep and resonant, filled with passion and verve.

“Hark!” the Red leader shouted. “A great kami stirs… Yes, yes, a great kami of the sacred treasures! O great kami,” he said, addressing the ethereal voice, “we beseech your intercession! We who have guarded your blade and glass for generations – your faithful Kojin!”

“If I made you whole, it was not my intent. I but carried the trinket,” T’lorna announced to the speakerless voice.

“Thou didst freely deliver our jewel unto thine enemy’s own treasure vault?”

“Yes,” the Miqo’te replied.

“Hah hah hah!” the voice laughed in jubilation. “How auspicious! We do commend thee, daughter of man. Such audacity is deserving of celebration, exultation – a contest of wills to mark the occasion! Let lines be drawn! Let sides be chosen! And for their loyalty, we shall stand with the caretakers of our greater part.”

“Oh, perfect,” Alisaie sighed. “A contest of wills… just what we need.”

The three items began to glow ever more brightly. “Hahahaha hah hah hah! Hearken to us, shelled ones! Upon this day, your wish shall be granted! Curse neither your fate nor its executor, children of man, for we are of the divine – of both heaven and earth. The ringing silence. The raging calm. All riseth and falleth at the whim of capricious fortune. Assume your marks upon the stage, and embrace the coming chaos!” Blue orbs of light surrounded the objects, connecting them in a triangle of power that flew to the heavens and then emerged in a storm of lightning, forming a primal. “We are Susano, and in revelry do we rejoice!” the primal shouted.

“That… that’s a primal standing in front of us, right?” Lyse asked.

“And a horde of angry Kojin at our backs,” Alisaie sighed. “This contest is getting worse by the moment. Lyse! Help me clear a path!” Speaking to T’lorna, she added, “Leave them to us and save your strength. You’ll be needing it soon enough.”

“Make way, make way!” Lyse warned the Kojin behind them. Then the pugilist and the red mage ran at the Kojin, engaging them in battle.

“Spoil not your appetite for the feast, children of man,” the primal roared. “The dish will be served whether you will it or no! Hah hah hah hah haaah!”

T’lorna followed in Alisaie and Lyse’s wake. She knew she had little time to prepare for the battle to come but she wanted to make certain that her two Scion comrades could be clear before she called upon her allies to aid her in the battle against the primal. She already knew she could shield them against the tempering effects so she was not worried on that score.

Leaving the vault, she hurried through the empty isle until she found Alisaie and Lyse hiding, biding their time and catching their breath.

“That… that was not part of the plan!” Alisaie protested. “A Kojin primal was most definitely not part of the plan! …Though I am sure there is a perfectly logical explanation involving the aether stored in the treasures and the religious fervor with which the Kojin guard them. Or something. A pity Alphinaud isn’t here to provide it. And just when I thought our fortunes had changed,” she sighed. “I swear, if Soroban and his people knew this might happen… No, somehow I doubt that. Even the Red seemed surprised by what happened. All rises and falls at the whim of capricious fortune, does it? Then the same goes for him. We have to defeat that primal! As before, our numbers limit our options,” she hissed. “I wish I could claim to have a brilliant plan, but I don’t – all I have is a desperate one. Lyse,” she said, turning to the other woman, “you and I will do our best to draw the Kojin away from the primal. We’ll lead them on a wild-dodo chase all over this isle. The rest of the plan, I’m afraid you can guess,” she said, turning to T’lorna. “I’m sorry, T’lorna, I truly am, but neither of us can even approach Susano, much less hope to defeat him. Which means you’re on your own.”

“Well, who knows?” Lyse replied lightly. “She does have an awful lot of adventurer friends. Maybe some of them decided to take a fishing trip to the Far East, and are surprisingly close by…?”

“Yes, and I speak fluent Hingan,” Alisaie snorted. “Come on, there’s no point putting this off!”

With that, the two women ran off on their own mission. T’lorna sighed. She had not had time to explain that she _did_ have people to call upon to help her. Instead, she returned to the vault and activated the aetheryte that would summon her new friends to aid her.

~*~*~*~

They materialized inside the vault mere moments later. T’lorna glanced over the seven others, surprised to see a Hyur in the armor of a paladin and a Miqo’te bearing a great sword. Another Hyur wore the robes of a white mage. The others were a pair of dancers, a red mage, a summoner, and a machinist. They looked mildly confused for a moment until their gazes fell upon T’lorna. One of their number, a Miqo’te with white hair, approached her.

“I take it you are T’lorna Zhiki,” the Miqo’te gunbreaker said with a voice that resonated with confidence. “I am K’odiak. I lead this particular squad. Come here and I will introduce you to my comrades.” T’lorna followed the other Miqo’te. “This is Zelse,” he said, pointing to the Hyur paladin, “and this white mage – one of the few outside of the Padjal, is Ren,” he continued, pointing to a Hyur woman with jet-black hair. “My wife, Yakshani,” he indicated as he pointed at the Viera. “Then we have Hegemonia,” he pointed at the machinist, “Degendal, who we call ‘Dave,’” he added as he gestured at the red mage, “and T’zumti,” he finished, pointing at the summoner.

“Oh, we know each other quite well,” T’zumti laughed. “How are you, cousin?”

“Quite well,” T’loran grinned. “Your father, Tela, often wishes you had chosen to remain with the tribe.”

“Well, I’m no shaman-born to be bound to the will of the tribe,” T’zumti chuckled. “Still, I can remember watching you learn to hunt. You never were very good at killing the animals but Twelve be damned if you couldn’t get them to stay still for the rest of us to kill!”

“It will be an honor to fight beside my cousin,” T’lorna said with a smile of her own. “And, once the fighting is done, perhaps I could introduce you to your first cousin once removed, my son, Noah.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” T’zumti said.

“Enough of the introductions,” K’odiak said in a tone that brooked no opposition. “Now, I have heard tell of this primal. I will explain the plan of battle. T’lorna, I hope to the Twelve that you can do something other than act as a paladin.”

T’lorna nodded, accepting the rebuke. She reached into her pouch and drew forth the soulstone that granted her the powers of an astrologian. She had become fascinated with that particular healing class during her time in Ishgard. Under the tutelage of Lady Leveva, she had gained much skill with her knowledge of astrology. Not only had T’lorna attuned to all of the constellations – she had also learned both the diurnal and nocturnal sects of spells related to the class. Closing her eyes, she pictured the full moon in front of her and then drew its energies into herself. She glanced over at Ren, the white mage, who seemed to be nodding approvingly. By drawing upon the moon, T’lorna would be able to provide healing and shields to the group while Ren focused on providing spells that would heal immediately and over time. T’lorna reached into her belted half of her astroglobe and drew forth a card. It was the Bole, indicating a good fate for those who dealt damage from a distance.

“Are we ready?” K’odiak asked. His six fellows answered in the affirmative and T’lorna nodded.

“Very well, then. Let us take down this primal and be done with it!”

With that, the group engaged Susano.

~*~*~*~

Throughout the fight, K’odiak seemed confident in his knowledge of the primal. Though T’lorna had, using the Echo, shielded them all from its tempering effects, it was clear that the white-haired Miqo’te knew far more about Susano than she did. It was he who warned them of when to dodge the lightning strikes or to stack together to mitigate the primal’s leaping attack. It was K’odiak who warned them of the primal’s summoning of tidal waves and how to avoid being caught in them. It was K’odiak who knew which of the rocks imprisoned one of their number. And it was K’odiak who clapped his hands around the primal’s blade, using his own aether to hold it off while the rest pressed their attacks until the primal was forced to return to the field once more.

After nearly a quarter-bell of battle, the primal was defeated and forced to withdraw from the mortal realm back to the aethereal realm. The seven fighters from the free company Alliance of Kings made their way back through the aether to their own business while T’lorna hurried to meet back up with Lyse and Alisaie.

“There’s no end to them!” T’lorna heard Lyse shout. “They just keep coming!”

“Then we must be doing something right,” Alisaie replied. “We have to hold out for as long as we can. She’s counting on us!”

Then one of the Red Kojin ran into their midst, shouting.

“Susano is slain! Slain by the shell-less one!”

The Kojin were frozen by that statement. Sensing that, T’lorna walked calmly up to Lyse and Alisaie.

“Is that true?” Lyse asked, turning from combat. “Did you defeat him?” T’lorna nodded. “Well, in that case – how do you fancy helping us keep the Kojin occupied until the Confederacy make their move?” T’lorna grinned but the sight of a plume of ruby-red smoke wafting in the sky over the isle caught her attention. “Speak of the devils – that’s coming from Isari!” Lyse shouted.

“I think we’ve done all we can here,” Alisaie replied. “Let’s withdraw and make for the village.”

“Right! Although…” Lyse sighed, “they don’t seem keen to let us go…” The Red Kojin were still, indeed, in formed ranks, seemingly ready to take on the three women. T’lorna started to move to engage them but Alisaie held out her arm, requesting patience. “Hear me, Kojin of the Red!” she said loudly enough for her voice to carry some distance. “We have no quarrel with you – only your imperial masters! No more blood need be shed this day! I pray you let us go in peace!”

“You dare speak to us of peace!?” one of the Red Kojin shouted. “Your flesh will feed the fishes, thief! Attaaack!”

The Red Kojin moved in as one unit while Alisaie unleashed one of her simple, but devastating, spells. Most of the Kojin were knocked out by its power, opening a way for the three women to escape.

“Now’s our chance!” Lyse said loudly. “Don’t worry about Alisaie – she can handle herself!”

With that, T’lorna and Lyse headed back towards the cavern that led them to the isle, leaving Alisaie to make short work of the few Red Kojin still standing.

~*~*~*~

Though she could tell that the Confederacy had launched their attacks and that the Kojin no longer could call upon the Empire to aid them, T’lorna decided not to return to help them. Instead, she made north towards the East Othard Coastline. She could spy Lyse in the distance as she reached the rocky, sandy beach.

“I think we’re safe,” Lyse said as T’lorna approached her. “I didn’t see any Kojin following us… Wait here. I’m going back for Alisaie.”

“I’m coming with you,” T’lorna protested.

“No. Absolutely not,” Lyse argued. “She stayed behind so that _you_ could escape. Even I know that. …I was the one who dragged you all into this. It was my fight, not yours. I knew that from the start, but I also knew I couldn’t do it alone,” she added, tucking her chin down to her chest. So let me go, please,” she begged. “I’m asking you as a friend. I have to help her!”

Before T’lorna could argue, she heard Alisaie call out from behind them.

“You can start by finding me a towel and some bandages. Brrr…” she shivered.

“Alisaie!” Lyse shouted in shock.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Alisaie demanded. “I said I was going to distract them, not make a heroic and ultimately futile last stand. Who does that, anyway?”

Lyse rushed out to the shallow waters to embrace the young Elezen. “For the love of –” she muttered. “This is stupid! You’re embarrassing yourself! And me!” Alisaie shouted.

“Shut up and let me have this,” Lyse growled. “Right,” Lyse said as T’lorna walked up to them. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now then, we need to hurry back to Isari!” The three made their way further up the coastline and studied the shores. “I don’t see any soldiers…” Lyse muttered. “Do you think the Confederacy drove them off?” They continued to study the calm sea. “Something definitely happened here. I see several people who look like they might be injured. Let’s give them a hand and find out what we missed,” she suggested.

“Hm?” Alisaie asked as T’lorna glanced over at her. “Do _I_ need help? Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing that won’t heal. You should go after Lyse,” she suggested.

T’lorna did as advised and found a couple of villagers who required her healing skills. Helping them, she scanned around for others who might need her aid. However, aside from those who had run afoul of Yotsuyu or the Garleans. Meanwhile, the Confederacy had come to their aid, driving off those who would have made short work of the villagers. T’lorna was directed to the tavern where she could speak to the pirate captain who had saved so many. Lyse and Alisaie joined her and, together, they learned that it was Tansui, Rasho, and Gosetsu who had saved so many.

“My Eorzean friends!” Tansui laughed. “Saw the smoke, did you? A pity you did not come sooner – though I gather you were busy elsewhere.”

“Gosetsu!” Lyse shouted. “You’re alive! You’re all alive…”

“And full of vim and vigor,” Gosetsu replied. “Did I not tell you I was no stranger to chains?”

“The fighting cannot have lasted long,” Alisaie pointed out, directing her comments to Rasho. “Where are all the imperials?”

“Fled,” he replied. “They stood their ground for a time – until it became clear that their Kojin reinforcements would not be coming. We took some few casualties, but my deeper regret is having let Yotsuyu slip through my fingers. That bodyguard of hers may be a half-wit, but he’s a mean bastard on the battlefield.”

“In any event,” Tansui said calmly, “I imagine all involved are satisfied with this outcome. So far as the Empire is concerned, the Confederacy attacked Isari in retaliation for the viceroy’s actions – and without the aid of insurrectionists, I might add. Suffice it to say, we are prepared to be the subject of their undivided attention for the foreseeable future.”

“Doma shall be free,” T’lorna replied. “This we swear.”

“Hm!” Rasho snorted. “An impossible claim, yet one spoken with such conviction that I cannot choose but believe it.”

“Your assistance would be most welcome,” Alisaie replied. “Nevertheless, we shall do our utmost to spare you undue danger – we are already in your debt.”

“Nay, little miss,” Tansui argued, “all debts are paid. For by your deeds, many still live who elsewise would not. Let both parties count their blessings, and may fortune continue to favor us all.”

“You still seek to bring freedom to our people, then?” Rasho asked Gosetsu. “You will go to Yanxia?”

“I have faith that our allies yet live,” Gosetsu nodded. “Once we have found them, we will plan our next step.”

“Yanxia was the crucible of the rebellion,” Rasho explained. “What happened here pales in comparison to what Yotsuyu did there. Remember this: fear changes men. Have care in whom you place your trust,” he advised.

“And with that, we must take our wounded home,” Tansui replied. “Oh!” he added. “Your shellback friend sends his regards, and looks forward to your next meeting. Try not to die before then, eh?”

With that, the pirates turned and left, returning with their wounded back to their home isles. With a short speech, Gosetsu turned and led them further south, to the cave that would take them to Yanxia and their next stage in the rebellion of the Far East.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm on track to have a third chapter ready for Friday. That gets me caught up. I should also have a chapter ready for next week. Slowly, but surely, I'm getting back on track so that, hopefully, there will not be weeks where I don't post a chapter.


	54. Into Yanxia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the action moves into Yanxia. :) I hope you all are still enjoying this. I should have the next chapter ready for next Friday. The only reason this one is late is because I was having Internet issues yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing in Square's universe.

As they walked through the cavern from Isari and into Yanxia, T’lorna was glad of the sunlight that helped to burn off the last scents of salt water from the air and the light wind that brought the scent of deep earth, flowers, and wildlife to her. As they continued down the road a pace, Gosetsu came to a stop and sighed.

“Hmm…” he said. “Yes, this is far enough. Ere we proceed further, I should speak of Yanxia and what became of her. Of what lies beyond the great wall at the heart of Doma.”

“And we should be glad to hear it, but is it wise for us to have this conversation here, on the road, out in the open?” Alisaie asked.

“Once, your caution would be warranted,” Gosetsu replied. “But no longer. Zenos did not linger after he crushed the rebellion. He appointed Yotsuyu to act in his stead and quit these lands for ‘fresh sport.’ The acting viceroy was no less merciless than her master. Without warning, her men would march into villages and search for ‘radical elements,’ killing and torturing any who dared resist. And then, as quickly as they had come, they left. Satisfied that the memory of the purges would keep the people in line, she relaxed her grip on Yanxia. What need for the leash when the dog is broken…” He turned and pointed further down the road before them. “The village of Namai lies to the west. Though I doubt the imperials are present, let us proceed with caution.”

With that, the samurai led them down the road towards the village he had pointed out. He stopped once again, on a rise below the village, and grinned.

“There she is – the humble village of Namai!” he laughed. “How delicious her rice; how sweet her persimmons! Too long has it been since I saw her with my own eyes. And, for a mercy, the imperials appear to be absent…” he mused. “Let no man claim that I am reckless,” he sighed. “Prudence has ever been my watchword! T’lorna – venture closer, if you would, and confirm that there are no soldiers lurking about,” he requested.

T’lorna nodded and carefully walked down the hill and then up the next to stand in the shadow of the village. She positioned herself where she could hear the speech of the villagers without giving herself away. Her ears quirked this way and that as she strained to hear anything. Then Alisaie appeared, creeping carefully along the same track. T’lorna winced at the way the Elezen was creeping – as if she had something to hide. For her part, T’lorna had walked openly so that if she were spotted, anyone who saw her would assume she was just traveling through these parts and had stopped to take a rest in the shade. Alisaie’s every movement practically screamed that she was on a reconnaissance mission.

“We may be in luck,” Alisaie whispered. T’lorna winced again. It would be better to simply speak in low tones. Whispering screamed that you were saying something you did not want overheard. “I don’t see a single imperial soldier.” T’lorna nodded in agreement and then glanced over to see that Gosetsu and Lyse had taken up similar positions across the road from her. Gosetsu rose to his feet and spoke just loudly enough for the Elezen and Miqo’te to hear him.

“Then there is no need to remain hidden. Let us go and greet them as friends,” he suggested.

“I’m going too!” Lyse announced as she stood and followed in Gosetsu’s wake. The three women walked up behind the samurai and watched as he announced himself to the village.

“Good people of Namai, hearken to me!” he said loudly. “I come in peace and desire only information – to learn of recent events!”

The villagers turned to regard the man shouting at them so warmly. One of them, a woman of young years, seemed stunned at the man speaking to them all.

“Isn’t that the general?” T’lorna heard her ask.

“Lord Gosetsu!?” the man next to her said in shock. “Kami preserve, you’re right! He lives!”

The rest of the villagers seemed to be in a state of shock and denial. Several made gestures that indicated that Gosetsu was not at all welcome amongst them.

“I say, brothers and sisters, is aught amiss?” Gosetsu asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. “Why do you regard me as one would a wild beast? Why is there fear in your eyes? Why do you tremble so?” He paused to think and then lifted a hand to his head in chagrin. “Ahhh, but of course! You fear me a vengeful spirit of the dead! Rest assured, naught could be further from the truth. For am I not corporeal? Are my feet not firmly set upon the ground? Hah hah!” he laughed.

“What should we do?” the woman asked. “If they catch him here, you know what will happen…”

“Of all the times for him to turn up,” the man next to her groaned. “Has the old fool lost his mind?”

Just then a youth, a young man with light brown hair and eyes that matched the freckles dotting his cheeks, walked out and stared at Gosetsu in shock. He rushed up to the samurai, his bright orange tunic flapping as he ran.

“You!” he shouted. “But… Why have you come here? What do you want from us?” he demanded in the tones of a youth who did not stop to consider his words carefully.

“I know not who you are to speak thus to your elders, boy, but mine only desire is to be received with the hospitality owed a humble traveler,” Gosetsu rebuked the young man, “not the fear and trepidation one might afford a wrathful shade!”

“What?” the youth demanded in confusion. “What are you going on about? Actually,” he sighed, “never mind. Just come with me – now!”

As Gosetsu and the others followed the youth, T’lorna took a moment to study the villagers. Most of them were bowed over, weeping in frustration and fear. T’lorna walked back down the road to where the Namai youth had led the others.

“I don’t know who you people think you are,” he was arguing, “but do you have any idea what would happen to us if you were found in our village!?”

“Again you address us with unwarranted spite!” Gosetsu retorted. “I have let your impropriety pass until now, but no longer! Who are you, boy, to speak to me thus?” the samurai demanded. “Know you not who I am?”

“ _I_ am Isse of Namai – a farmer, like my father before me, and his father before him,” the young man replied passionately. “I wouldn’t expect a man like you to know who I am – but I know you. We all do! Lord Kaien’s retainer and leader of the rebellion – Gosetsu! Notorious fugitive, wanted dead or alive by the Empire!”

Gosetsu threw his head back and laughed. “Is that what this is all about?” he asked as he laughed. “I am hardly the first man to earn the ire of the Empire. Nor will I be the last,” Gosetsu pointed out. “Was not Namai home to brave and true warriors, who fought beneath our banners for king and country?” he demanded.

“They fought, and they died,” Isse replied tersely. “Every last one. And then the imperials came looking for more. Because of them. They were _this_ close to killing us all – to burning our village to the ground. We’ve only just begun to enjoy some semblance of peace…” he hung his head in weariness. Then, Isse lifted his gaze and let it bore into Gosetsu’s. “Never again – never again,” he swore. “Do you understand!? We’ve had enough of you and yours! Whatever it is you’re plotting, leave us out of it!” With that, Isse turned on his heels and ran back to Namai.

“…Hmm,” Gosetsu sighed. “Impassioned as his pleas may be, surely he must know that I cannot leave things as they are. But for now, I shall respect his wishes,” he said calmly. “We must continue on towards our final destination – the House of the Fierce. Proud headquarters of the Doman Liberation Front. There is a secret entrance to the north of Namai,” Gosetsu explained, “by way of a small spring. Come – I will show you!”

Gosetsu led them to the very spring he had mentioned. Once there, he spoke again.

“This way, this way,” he gestured as he indicated the small pond behind him. “We must dive into the water! Have no fear, T’lorna! It is but a short distance. You need not hold your breath for long!”

Gosetsu then dove into the pool. T’lorna and the other two followed him, diving into the pool and spying the short cave that led to another pool. They swam quickly, the blessing of the Kojin aiding them, and found themselves surfacing in a cavern with a wooden door in the side of it. Gosetsu squatted before it, catching his breath.

“Hah hah ha!” he panted. “How invigorating! Congratulations, my friends! You are come to the House of the Fierce!”

~*~*~*~

Once inside the House of the Fierce, they were surprised at the paucity of followers and reunited with Yugiri who explained that she had only recently returned from her own mission. Lyse recounted their tale as Yugiri listened avidly.

“We wanted to stay and fight, believe me,” she explained as she came to the end of her tale, “but we knew it wouldn’t work. We needed more time to rebuild – and more allies to stand with us against the Empire. So we decided to come here and help you free Doma. To show you – to show everyone – that you’re not alone, and that the Garleans can be beaten, if we work together. I’d like to think we proved that in the Ruby Sea…”

“That you did, Lyse, and far more besides,” Yugiri reassured her. “Needless to say, your assistance would be most welcome.”

“Hear, hear!” Gosetsu cheered. “Now then, Yugiri – you must tell me of your search for our master!”

Yugiri paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and gathered her thoughts before speaking. “Lest you wonder,” she explained, “he speaks of Lord Hien, son of Lord Kaien, who perished during the rebellion. When it became clear that all hope of victory had gone, Lord Hien bade us deliver as many of our people as we could to safety beyond our borders. But as his father’s heir, he was determined to fight on, and so he did – until he suffered a grievous wound in battle and vanished without a trace…” she sighed. “Until now. For I have found Lord Hien – seen and spoken with him. On the Azim Steppe.”

“O boundless and merciful kami, the young master lives!” Gosetsu said, relieved. “Tell me, was he well?” he demanded of Yugiri. “Did his wound yet ail him? Where is he now? Have you brought him back to us!?”

Yugiri shook her head from side to side. “You may take comfort in the knowledge that he is hale and whole,” she replied. “However, when I invited him to return with me to Doma, he had this to say…” her voice took on the intonation of one repeating another’s words. “‘If Doma yet thirsts for the blood of patriots and tyrants, I shall offer unto her my blade. But if she has had her fill of bitter draughts, I shall offer unto her conquerors my head.’” Returning to her normal lilt, Yugiri continued. “Thrice did I declare to him that no true son or daughter of Doma would ever accept such a sacrifice. But for all my passion, he would not be swayed. “‘Learn the truth of her heart and return to me,’ he said. And so I left him,” she sighed.

“The word of one made to wear the mantle of leadership too soon…” Gosetsu mused. “Yet there is wisdom in them all the same. If the people no longer yearn to be free, ‘twould be folly to rekindle the fires of war.”

“To suffer our master to surrender his life and forsake all hope of freedom is by far the greater folly,” Yugiri argued. “I will not go to face my fallen comrades having done naught to stop it.”

“Nor I, shadow walker, nor I,” Gosetsu agreed. “But we need not rouse our comrades to battle this day. Let us instead welcome our honored guests and allow them a moment of respite.”

With that, the conversation turned to other things as Yugiri and the others in the House of the Fierce showed the Scions and T’lorna around, giving them quarters where they could sleep and promising them a good dinner in a few hours. There were even some steam rooms off to the sides where they could take sweat baths. However, one thing seemed to be missing: an aetheryte. The only way to access the House of the Fierce would be to rappel down from the hills above or to swim up through the underwater tunnel from the lake near Namai. T’lorna decided to head for the sweat baths but stopped when she saw Alisaie staring at the empty aetheryte column.

“As you can see, they went to great lengths to disable the aetheryte. Apparently, in the twilight days of the rebellion, they feared that Zenos would be willing to risk sending unattuned conscripts. That said, it is hardly irreversible. They have the necessary materials. It would be a challenge to repair it alone, but mayhap with my brother’s help…”

Leaving Alisaie to her thoughts, T’lorna headed to the next room only to be stopped by Lyse.

“You should hear this, T’lorna,” Lyse said excitedly, gesturing to the man she had been talking to. “He was just telling me about Zenos and the rebellion.”

“What you have to understand is that it was not a simple matter of numbers,” the man explained. “The bulk of the XIIIth never even took the field. It was Zenos’s stratagems that won the war. They were unlike anything we had ever seen. His formations were unorthodox – bewildering. We honestly thought we had him on the back foot. One moment we were pressing home our advantage, the next we were surrounded and at his mercy. And then he stood before us, his cornered prey. Alone and unarmed. He beckoned us to come forward and fight for our lives.” The man lowered his head, his gaze abstracted as he remembered that horrible day. “One by one,” he said, his voice soft but filled with pain, “my comrades charged. Fearless and unflinching, he would dance amidst their blades for a time, and then draw close, as if to embrace… One… after… another. He made us watch. Do you understand?” he pleaded. “He made us watch. What kind of monster enjoys killing people? …I do not think there was any joy in it. Nor justice, nor morality, nor meaning. To him, the weight of one life is no different from that of a thousand. A challenge had been issued and was accepted. But on finding no challenge at all, his objective changed. There were tales of imperial soldiers being flayed for slaughtering families. For breaking brave men’s spirits. Only late did I come to understand why. He did not desire obedience. He desired hate… and men consumed by it. A new battle. A new enemy. A new challenge. The hunt, I am told he called it. A hunt without end. And when all our best lay dead and broken, he left. He left, muttering that we had ‘bored’ him. But our weapons, at least, held his interest. For he took a fallen samurai’s sword, having grown… fond of it. Since that day, he has ever wielded Far Eastern blades. He is said to be fascinated by ones with storied histories, and so soldiers who seek to curry his favor often present those of defeated enemies as gifts.”

“It’s like it’s all a game to him,” Lyse muttered. “People are suffering – dying – and he’s collecting swords?”

“We all feel the same,” the soldier replied. “But my lady, you must understand… On the battlefield, reasons do not matter. The victor is not the just, but the strong, and the strong become the heroes of the tale. We were not strong enough. It is not sufficient to be right. To be just. Without strength, our path has but one end…” he sighed. T’lorna stood silent for a moment as she considered his words and then went off to seek Gosetsu. The young soldier’s words troubled her. From her own encounter with Zenos, she agreed that strength was needed. However, more than just strength, morale was necessary. Having heart and passion could often help supply an edge against raw strength without passion.

She found him sitting at a table in the next room, near where the sweat baths were. She walked up to him and he grinned at her.

“Mayhap a brief respite is in order,” he sighed. “Were I twenty years younger, these wounds would not warrant a second glance. Alas, no samurai has the strength to defeat that villain Old Age. But what say you to the House of the Fierce?” he asked. “Compared to your Rising Stones, I concede it may seem somewhat lacking… But it has been a haven these past ten years to all who would set Doma free. Regrettably, our efforts in that time have come to little and less,” he said with a sigh of regret. “When the Emperor died, we were so _sure_ the hour of our liberation was at hand. But Zenos soon put paid to that, with the aid of Yotsuyu and the secrets she sold.”

With much on her mind, T’lorna shuddered to herself and then decided to go and work out her turmoil in the sweat bath.

~*~*~*~

As she sat in the steamy room, enjoying the fresh scent of the herbs sprinkled over the braizers, T’lorna reached up and tapped the code into her linkpearl that would let her reach her son with the Gryphon tribe. She listened as the tones sounded and then G’wain’s voice sounded in her ears.

“Ah, T’lorna,” he said warmly. “Noah will be along in a moment. He’s just getting dressed for bed.”

“Is he behaving himself?” she asked as she always did.

“He’s a handful but not bad,” G’wain chuckled. “He reminds me of Raha at that age. Into everything, curious, full of questions, constantly exploring the world around him. Luckily, Orbie keeps a close eye on him so he can’t get too far out of line before she alerts one of us. Ah,” he said. “Here he is.”

T’lorna listened as G’wain took off the linkpearl and handed it to Noah.

“Hi Mama!” Noah shouted, still not clear that he could speak in a normal tone of voice. “I bein’ good!”

“I’m glad to hear that, baby,” T’lorna said warmly. “Are you enjoying being with your daddy’s tribe?”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out. “Miss you. When you come see me?”

“Soon,” T’lorna promised. “I just got finished helping some people stop the bad guys and I’m going to meet someone important soon. Once we get some more people ready to help us, I’ll come and get you and we’ll go home.”

“Okay,” Noah sighed. “You tell me night-night story now?”

“Sure,” T’lorna grinned. “Go get in your bed.” She listened as Noah moved to his bed and got himself tucked in. She could overhear G’wain and G’alia tucking him in, telling him good night, and then gave him a moment to get settled. “Once upon a time,” she said softly, “there was a group of people called the Kojin. They looked much like turtles but stood like men. They could swim deep beneath the sea, breathing the water as easily as they breathed air when walking on the land. They had many great treasures that they kept in their holy vault…” she continued, telling him the story of meeting the Blue Kojin and fighting against the Red Kojin and proving her might to their great warrior spirit. Before she was finished, she heard the deep, even breathing coming across the linkpearl that told her that Noah was sound asleep.

“Sleep well, baby,” she said softly before she reached up and clicked off her linkpearl.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, when T’lorna woke up, she felt much more relaxed than she had in a while. Sweat baths were not only a good way to get clean, they were also a good way to get relaxed. She rose from her borrowed bed, dressed, and then walked out into the main room and saw Yugiri.

“T’lorna,” the shadow walker said as the Miqo’te walked up to her. “I do hope you have taken this opportunity to rest and recover. It is well that you spoke with one of the survivors of that massacre. To defeat one’s foe, one must first understand his true nature. As the Ala Mhigan Resistance has struggled, so too has the Doman Liberation Front. More so, perhaps, given the precarious position in which we find ourselves in the wake of our doomed rebellion. We are few, and our enemies legion. We are weak, and they strong. Yet with your help, I believe that there is little we cannot achieve… I only hope the depth of our predicament has not shaken your commitment to our cause.”

“Never! Victory will be ours,” T’lorna said firmly. She refused to consider for a moment that they would not, eventually, find a way to defeat Zenos and drive the Garleans back to their own homeland.

“Aye, that it will,” Yugiri agreed. “With the hero of Eorzea on our side, we cannot lose!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part two of the Yanxia chapter will be up next Friday. I hope you all are still enjoying it. :)


	55. A Blow Against Garlemald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we wrap up the events in Yanxia and prepare to move into the Azim Steppe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square-Enix's universe.

“Now then,” Yugiri said, “I should be glad to discuss our next course of action – Though, now that I think on it, I myself have been away from Doma for some time, and even after my return, the search for Lord Hien commanded my full attention… Mayhap it would be to both our benefit if we were to see the reality of Doma for ourselves. For did my lord not bid me learn the truth of her heart? Let us do this together, T’lorna. Let us go among the people and with our own eyes bear witness to their hardship. As a foreigner in these lands, your reputation does not precede you. Moreover, unlike Gosetsu, I can accompany you without attracting unwanted attention.”

Just then, Lyse walked up. “I’d like to join you, if that’s all right,” she said.

“By all means,” Yugiri agreed. “We should be glad of your company, and your perspective. Namai is not far. I say we begin there.”

~*~*~*~

Once they got just outside Namai, the three women changed into merchant garb. Moving carefully, they walked into the village to gather information. T’lorna first approached a woman near one of the larger houses to see what she had to say to a traveling merchant. The first person she approached was a woman who introduced herself as Honami.

“Weren’t you the one who came with the general?” she asked as she studied T’lorna carefully. T’lorna shook her head and the woman shrugged. “No? Hmm. I see… My mistake,” she sighed. Then, she smiled. “It warms my hear to see traveling merchants in Namai again. Though the imperials never sealed our borders, folks like you have taken to avoiding Yanxia ever since the rebellion. Unfortunately, that has only made it harder for us to survive. You may have noticed, but we lack for a great many things. It was not much better before, true, but it has only gotten worse…”

T’lorna nodded and offered a few things in trade that she could afford to lose. Then she set out to find another person in Namai.

Chigusa proved to be somewhat useful for information. “You? A merchant?” the woman laughed. “Forgive me my skepticism, but you strike me less a woman of commerce and more a common sellsword.” T’lorna quickly did her best impression of Hancock, down to his wording and demeanor, but Chigusa was not impressed.

“That does little to assuage my doubts,” she muttered, “and if anything makes me clutch my coin purse tighter.” T’lorna then gave her brightest, most convincing grin. “I stand corrected:” Chigusa sighed. “Such a warm and cordial nature you possess. I pray you forgive me my earlier rudeness. It has been some time since the viceroy came to our village to purge it of insurgents,” she explained. “Those who resisted suffered terribly, and those who did not fared little better. We who remain know better than to risk her ire,” Chigusa sighed. “If the imperials demand laborers, we comply. If they demand conscripts to send as soldiers to other provinces, we obey. Ours is a difficult life, with little in the way of luxuries. I know not what you sell, merchant, but I doubt that I – nor anyone else here – can afford it.”

With a sigh, T’lorna set out to speak to another. She quickly found a farm-lad named Masatsuchi, a beastman who said, “A traveling merchant? With meat, perchance?” she shook her head. “Bah, better not to know when I have so little coin,” he sighed. “I feel your eyes upon me. You know not of the Lupin?” he asked. “Surely you have not been long in Yanxia, else you would. For generations we served the lords of Doma, compassionate and wise as they were – but the memories of such times fade with every passing day. As others will tell you.” He ceased to speak and T’lorna sought out yet another. She found the farmer Miyama who spoke.

“Foreign peddlers? In Namai? Whatever it is you sell, I have no money to buy. Perhaps you should go elsewhere. Saying that, I know of no village in Yanxia that has fared any better. Once, I would have directed you to the samurai lords of Monzen – had they not all died in battle or in the purges. There is the Doman Enclave, of course, but that lies beyond the Dairyu Moon Gates. Needless to say, the imperials are disinclined to let any but their own pass.”

Satisfied that she had learned all she could, T’lorna turned back to meet with Yugiri once more.

“T’lorna,” the shadow-walker asked. “What have you learned?”

The warrior of Light told her, in brief, what she had learned from the handful of villagers. Yugiri sighed sadly as she replied.

“Lyse and I encountered much of the same. They have been pushed beyond the brink. I expected frustration and disillusionment, but not so much that they would come to question the wisdom of opposing imperial rule in the first place… Unless we can convince them otherwise, I fear I cannot convince Lord Hien to return, and without him…” she sighed in frustration. “Let us not yet lose hope,” she said, speaking almost as if to herself. “Though the situation in Namai is bleak, mayhap it is not so elsewhere.”

With that, she sent T’lorna south to seek out others who might be willing to share information with passing merchants. For Yugiri’s sake, T’lorna hoped that she would hear better things from those further away from Namai. The village had suffered tremendously but, like Yugiri, she hoped that other places would offer more help.

As she made her way down the road, she saw a young girl struggling to escape from some of the creatures stalking her. There were no signs that the girl’s parents – or anyone else – were nearby. Without thinking, T’lorna rushed over and, calling on her training as an astrologian, cast several quick spells that killed the creatures stalking the child.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the young girl gushed. “If you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“What are you doing out here in the wilds on your own? Where are your parents?” T’lorna asked as she continued to look around for those who should be looking after a girl young enough to still be in short skirts.

“What am I doing out here?” the girl repeated. “Oh… looking for flowers. I need some for my parents’ graves.” T’lorna felt her heart lurch and her jaw clench. The girl was an orphan, then. Still, there must be _someone_ looking after her. She had clean clothing and seemed to be well-fed. “The ones my brother and I usually bring are yellow, because it was my mother’s favorite color. You haven’t seen any, have you?” she asked.

Recognizing that she was not going to get any useful information out of so young a child but that she could not leave the girl alone – without someone to watch her, she’d surely continue her quest to find yellow flowers. So, T’lorna sighed.

“I saw some on a hill nearby. What I want you to do is to go stand over there,” she said, pointing to the road, “and I will go and get the flowers and bring them back here to you. If any creatures come towards you, I want you to run back to the village over there,” she said, pointing at Namai, “as fast as you can. And I want you screaming at the top of your lungs the whole way. Got it?”

The girl nodded in agreement and then did as T’lorna directed. Meanwhile, T’lorna headed deeper into the wilds to find yellow flowers. She remembered seeing a glimmer of them as she had stood in Namai. Making her best guess in the direction, she headed for the hill she thought she might have seen and, once there, fought off a few more wild creatures as she found and gathered the required flowers.

The girl was still standing in the road where T’lorna had left her.

“Ah! You found some!” she cried with joy. “Thank you so much, miss. That’s twice you’ve saved me now! Um, if you have some time to spare, maybe you could come with me? I’m sure Mother and Father would want to meet the woman who showed me such kindness. We buried them on a cliff to the west of the village. There’s a path through the terraces. I’ll show you!” she offered and then ran off, leaving T’lorna no choice but to run after her. She followed her back towards Namai and then on the path that wound behind the village, through the rice fields, and up the bluffs.

“We’re here! Just give me a moment to put down the flowers, and I’ll introduce you…” the girl said as she knelt down between two mounds. T’lorna stood back, paying her silent respects to the unknown couple and silently promising them that she would get their daughter back to whoever was supposed to be watching her and then have a few words about not letting young children get too far out of sight.

“They loved to meet travelers and hear tales of faraway places,” the girl said softly. “Maybe you could tell them one about your homeland?”

Before T’lorna could respond, she heard a young man’s voice calling out in desperation and fear. She knew then that this must be the one responsible for the girl. “Azami! Azami! Are you there? Azami!” he called out. Then he climbed the hill and saw the girl. T’lorna sighed. She recognized this young man who had seen her come in with Gosetsu. “What in the…” Isse growled. “You should not be here! Get away from my sister!” he demanded.

“Don’t be so rude!” Azami chided her older brother. “She saved me from monsters, Brother – she even helped me pick flowers for Mother and Father!”

“Go back to the village. Now,” Isse ordered his sister.

“Y-you’re scaring me…” Azami muttered.

“I said go!” Isse roared. “Stay inside and lock the door until I return!” Azami rushed off with no further arguing. T’lorna crossed her arms over her chest as Isse rounded on her. “Don’t think me ungrateful,” Isse said, still angry. “My sister is the only family I have. If you saved her, then… thank you. But it changes nothing. I asked you to leave, and now I’m asking you again. I’m not going to report you to the imperials, or anything stupid like that. But it’s too dangerous for you to stay here. So please, I’m begging you – just leave us alone!”

“She said your parents were buried here,” T’lorna replied.

“So she told, did she? Yes,” he sighed. “That’s right. My father and mother believed in the rebellion. They left to fight for Lord Kaien. They came home on a cart driven by imperial soldiers. The soldiers demanded that the families of the insurgents present themselves, or else they’d burn the whole village to the ground. So we did. What choice did we have?” he said softly as he gazed over the graves. The beat us in the village square – with their hands, with sticks, with anything. They kicked us while we lay on the ground, begging for mercy. They made us denounce my mother and father – call them fools, call them traitors. Say they deserved to die. I heard them laugh, but I dared not look up. One leaned close and whispered in my ear what he’d do to my sister if they had to come back. They’re gone, but they’re never far. All it takes is the wrong word in the wrong ear, and they’ll return. And then I’ll have to dig another grave. If I’m lucky. Whatever you came here to do, leave us out of it. If you want to fight the imperials, go and fight them on your own. You can’t help us. No one can. And this is all we’ve got. So please – don’t take it from us.” With that, Isse left, leaving T’lorna to stare down at the two graves in full knowledge of what price Isse and the others had already paid and understanding more about why they were so reluctant to lend them any aid.

With that in mind, T’lorna made her way back towards the village where she was to meet up with Yugiri and Lyse.

~*~*~*~

When she met back up with the other two women, T’lorna told Yugiri the story that Isse had told her. The shadow-walker was surprised by the tale and seemed to be revising her opinion of the villagers in light of it. However, before they could leave the village, they heard the sounds of imperials drawing near. Hurrying to find a place they could hide in while watching, the three watched.

Imperial soldiers marched into the village and began barking orders.

“Why are you milling about like a pack of slack-jawed mongrels!?” their leader shouted. “Form a line! Now!” Dispirited and with no thought of arguing, the villagers did as ordered. “Finally,” he muttered. “I come before you today to deliver an announcement of the highest import, so listen well. While on a charitable mission to Isari village, the acting viceroy and her personal guard came under attack from Confederate forces. This brazen, unconscionable act cannot – and will not – go unanswered. As loyal subjects of the Empire who enjoy her safety and prosperity, you have a duty to defend her as well.” The villagers began to move about, clearly ill-at-ease with the thought of being drafted and sent unprepared to the front lines. The guard shook his head and waved his hands. “There is no cause for alarm,” he explained. “We have no intention of sending ill-trained fodder to the front line. Those who are selected will be expected to perform rudimentary tasks. Cleaning and maintenance and so forth. You will serve only as long as you are needed. Afterwards, you will be free to return to your homes.” Yugiri, Lyse, and T’lorna watched as the commander pointed at villagers, picking out the young and strong, mostly men. Isse was among those selected.

“Hmph,” Yugiri snorted. “The Empire has no pressing need of cleaners. This is but a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate those who supported the Confederacy’s actions, and isolate any whose loyalty they already suspect.”

T’lorna watched, her heart in her throat and tears brimming in her eyes as Isse did his best to put on a confident front to his sister, telling her to mind the elders, stay safe, and then promising that he would be home soon. With that done, the soldiers led their recruits out of the village and down the road towards the south.

“There’s no telling what might happen to those people!” Lyse snarled as she rose from her hiding spot. “We have to help them!”

“And we shall,” Yugiri promised. “But before all else, we must needs ascertain their destination. I doubt this is the first village the Garleans have visited… nor is it like to be the last. I will track these men. Will you help me?” she asked T’lorna. T’lorna nodded. “Pray return to our headquarters and tell the others what you saw here,” Yugiri said to Lyse. “Should we have need of reinforcements, I would know that they are ready.”

“But I should be going with you!” Lyse protested. “I came here to fight!”

“Soon enough, Lyse,” Yugiri promised. “Soon enough. For now, we must proceed with caution.”

“I know that, I do…” Lyse sighed. “It’s just – when I saw them rounding those people up… Look, if anything happens – anything at all – you’d better call for us! I mean it, Yugiri. Anything at all.” With that, Lyse headed back to the House of the Fierce.

“Regardless of what the officer claimed, I fear they have crueler designs for these people,” Yugiri said softly to T’lorna.

The pair hurried out of the village, following the road south, careful to keep just out of sight of the imperials escorting their conscripts. As they drew near to where a squad of guards stood watch, Yugiri handed T’lorna a dart gun and some darts. Pointing out that discretion was better than all-out-violence, she asked the Miqo’te to take out the guards with the darts, explaining that they were coated with an agent that would put the guards into a deep sleep, making it easy for the pair of them to slip past without raising an alarm.

T’lorna moved carefully, keeping in the shadows. She found a place where she could take out one guard overlooking the road and then moved to a hill that gave her a clear shot at the guards standing watch over the broken bridge. Taking careful aim, she picked off the five guards in an order that kept them from being aware that anything untoward had happened to the others. When she was done, T’lorna signaled to Yugiri. Together, the pair of them crossed the river and made their way to the base where the soldiers had been escorting their conscripts.

“The villagers are being held in the castrum to the south – Fluminis,” Yugiri explained. “Once it was the base of operations for the Garlean occupation… until ten or so years ago, when they relocated to Doma Castle. Now, the castrum serves as little more than a storage facility… I spy two sentries near the gate. As you have proven yourself to have impeccable aim, I would ask you to incapacitate them. This very hill should afford you a clear shot.”

T’lorna nodded and crawled up the hill, careful not to let her outline show to those who could look up from below. When she reached a spot that afforded her a good view of the castrum’s gates, she saw that one guard was stationed outside and another stood inside of them, his back turned to her. She did not have a clear shot at the second guard from where she was but if she moved, the first guard would spot her. Sighing, she took the dart gun and fired, hitting the first sentry square. The sound of his body falling to the ground drew the other guard’s attention. Praying that he would decide to investigate himself instead of rousing the alarm, she sighed in relief and shot him when he came out to stand over his sleeping comrade.

T’lorna made her way back down to Yugiri and, together, the two walked up to the castrum. They hid in the shadow of the gate and peered in, watching as the villagers were escorted into the center field.

“Sir!” the guard said to another who was approaching the villagers. “The Aan from the other villages are assembled for inspection.”

“Very good,” the officer replied. “I will address them personally.” He strode up to stand in front of the small crowd. “Attention! Shortly you all will be transported to the facility on the distant shore. Your duties, as you have been previously informed, will be rudimentary in nature. More specifically, you will be tasked with the repair and maintenance of various arms and armaments, as well as magitek devices.”

“Magitek!?” one of the villagers protested. “But we’re farmers! We don’t know the first thing about magitek!”

“The materiel in question was damaged when _your_ kith and kin rose up in rebellion!” the officer snapped. “Therefore, _you_ bear responsibility for its repair! If you cannot perform your duties, you will learn how. And if you cannot learn how, then your villages may find themselves at the mercy of the Confederacy and other radical elements. Is that what you want? Deal with this rabble,” he ordered the more junior soldier. “I am needed at the castle.” With that the other guard pointed and ordered the crowd to move back towards the barracks.

“This is no temporary measure,” Yugiri muttered softly. “Those men and women will die in servitude. Once they are taken to the other facility, it will be too late. If we are to intervene, we must do so now. Agreed?” T’lorna nodded. “Then let us be about it,” she said.

Yugiri moved through the shadows and T’lorna moved off so that she could watch as the shadow-walker took down guards inside the facility. Once Yugiri had dragged several unconscious men off to the side, T’lorna made her way inside and joined up with her.

“Softly, softly,” Yugiri warned as T’lorna approached, “lest the others hear us. What of the outside?”

“No one suspects. All is calm and quiet on the outside front.”

“That is good. We may proceed as planned. Fortunately, a solution presents itself. I would have you disguise yourself as an imperial soldier and convince them that a changing of the guard is in order. You have your pick of uniforms. They shall not protest,” she added, gesturing to the unconscious guards. T’lorna scanned them and found a soldier close to her size. Working efficiently, she stripped him of his uniform and donned his garments herself. While T’lorna did that, Yugiri dragged the unconscious men back to their bunks. By the time she returned, T’lorna had equipped the armor and done a reasonable job of wrapping her tail around her waist so as to hide it since the soldier had not been a Miqo’te. She also piled her hair atop her head and then put the helmet on, wincing at how it flattened her ears uncomfortably against her skull. Yugiri returned, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Our sleeping beauties have been laid to rest in their bunks. Oh, and while I was in the barracks, I happened upon these spare uniforms, in case the items in your possession are not to your liking. But, I see that was not necessary. Here. This kabuto and tekko should match the uwagi, hakama, and choka in your possession. And with that, you have a full set. It looks almost as if it were bespoke. You will need to give the soldiers guarding the villagers a proper imperial salute to complete the deception and convince them to come here, where I will be waiting to deal with them.”

T’lorna quickly finished her disguise and then headed off towards the barracks where the villagers had been herded just a short time ago. Only two guards were standing watch and neither looked very alert. They seemed to harbor no suspicion that anything other than routine was about to take place. T’lorna walked up to the first one and gave her best imperial salute, her arm straight in front of her chest, the fist in line with her shoulder.

“Is it time already?” the guard asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind, but I thought the others would be gone longer.” He returned her salute sharply and she watched him walk off before approaching the other guard and giving him the same salute.

“Changing of the guard, is it?” he asked with a soft growl. “About bloody time. Just looking at these Aan is making me depressed. Reminds me of when I was in their shoes, pissing myself in fear…”

The other guard followed his comrade and T’lorna watched as first one, then the other, collapsed. With that, T’lorna headed back to where Yugiri was waiting. She helped the other woman drag the two bodies off to be hidden. The two then made their way up to where the villagers stood in ranks outside their barracks.

“Listen to me, all of you!” Yugiri said in a voice that quickly cut through the chatter of the confused crowd. “We have dealt with the imperials for now, but you must flee this place, quickly!”

“D-dealt with them?” one of the villagers stammered. “Oh… oh no… you didn’t kill them, did you?”

“Are you mad!?” one of the farmwives shrieked. “There’s no escaping the Empire! Running will only make it worse!”

“To stay is to die,” Yugiri said, her voice hard. “You know this to be true. Even if you lack the will to fight, surely you have the will to live! Or has that, too, been beaten out of you? Is this what has become of Doma!?”

The villagers looked at each other in confusion and fear. Finally, Isse spoke up.

“You are Lord Hien’s retainer?” he asked Yugiri. “Trained to fight without fear and obey without question? It’s a pathetic existence… but it’s all we’ve got. And when people like you come here pretending it can be different, it – it doesn’t help, all right?” Yugiri looked first angry and then hurt, as if the reproach stung her deeply.

“Peace, boy,” one of the elders said. “She came to help, and for that we should be grateful.” He bowed politely to Yugiri and she winced at the huge bruise covering one of his eyes, the lid nearly completely swollen shut.

“Elder, your face…”

“We all have scars,” he replied. “Some too many to bear. Too many battles, too much lost. Our friends, our family, even our liege. We who survived are forced to bend the knee – to sell our souls and surrender our dignity. How are we to lift our heads, when this shame weighs so heavily upon us?” he asked. “Your courage, your resolve… They are as salt in our wounds.” The villagers all hung their heads in shame.

“If they only knew what you would do for them, my lord…” Yugiri whispered. “You have made your plight clear, and I shall impose my will no more,” she said, lifting her head and her voice. “But know this, brothers and sisters of Doma. For all you have suffered – for all the horror and the ignominy – you are still here. You are still alive. My lord – my lord prays you value your life as highly as he does. As for me… I swear by all the kami in creation that I will free you from this torment. No matter the cost,” she vowed.

“If the imperials come for me, I will tell them we were tricked by an Auri woman,” a Roegadyn man said.

“Tell them whatever you must to keep your loved ones safe,” Yugiri agreed.

The villagers hurried off. All but one. Isse remained where he was standing, his head hung.

“Why would you…?” he wondered. “After everything…” Then, without another word, he ran off, hurrying back home to his sister.

T’lorna turned to Yugiri who seemed lost in thought. “Apologies, T’lorna,” she said. “I was… lost in thought. Mayhap they have the right of it. Mayhap we are fools for urging them to rise once more. Yet I believe – I _have_ to believe – that in their heart of hearts, they… they still…” she sighed. “Now is not the time. We must finish what we started. I have in my possession a powerful medicine that befuddles the mind and memories. We must administer it to the soldiers ere they wake. The medicine will leave the soldiers confused and unable to clearly recall recent events. They will suspect that they fell asleep at their posts and be reluctant to discuss it with others. It is naught more than a temporary measure, but we dare not kill them for the sake of the villagers. Tend to the last two I put to sleep – I shall see to the others.”

T’lorna took the doses and then went back to where they had left the guards. She administered it and then headed out of the keep to meet with Yugiri.

~*~*~*~

As the two women stood by the waters, taking a moment to rest and reflect, they spied an airship soaring through the sky, headed towards Doma castle.

“An imperial airship…” Yugiri whistled. “It is bound for Doma Castle. Quickly, we must rejoin the others!”

T’lorna nodded and the pair of them quickly made their way back to the House of the Fierce. Once there, they wasted no time reporting their sighting of the airship and asking the others what they knew of it. As they entered the main chambers, they saw people running to and fro, making preparations and checking their weapons.

“There you are!” Lyse shouted. “What happened? Are the villagers all right?”

“W-we freed them, along with many others,” Yugiri replied. “Gosetsu, we spied an airship bound for the castle. Know you aught of it?”

“Aye, that we do…” he said grimly. “The crown prince is come to Doma.”

“We suspect this is the result of recent events in Gyr Abania,” Alisaie added. “Our defeat notwithstanding, there appears to be some concern in Garlemald that subversive elements may be rallying in other provinces. Though Yotsuyu governs Doma, Zenos remains the province’s anointed viceroy – and it would seem he has come to assess the current situation in person.”

“If Zenos is here, we must seize this opportunity and kill him,” Yugiri growled.

“Would that it were so simple, Lady Yugiri,” Alisaie said. “You may recall that we encountered Zenos at Rhalgr’s Reach. We have seen firsthand what he can do. His power defies explanation. He faced the Alliance, the Resistance and the Scions, and he defeated us all. We survived and learned from the experience, it is true – but if we are to defeat him, it will not be through simple opportunism. We will require a flawless plan.”

“We know his strengths,” Yugiri replied. “A prodigious swordsman trained from childhood by the finest imperial tutors, reputed to be without equal on the battlefield. Which is why we must not meet him there,” she agreed. “Nay, we keep to the shadows – the domain the shinobi. And thence we strike. You need only give me the chance.”

“Were this but a matter of personal revenge, I would not presume to bar your path, for I myself crave that same vengeance,” Gosetsu interjected. “But to draw steel against the Emperor’s son is a grave decision, and one that will shape our nation’s future. Do not forget Lord Hien’s words!”

“What, that we should sheathe our swords if the people lack the will to fight?” Yugiri said angrily. “I will not squander this opportunity! If we do naught, our master’s life is forfeit!”

“Even should you succeed, Zenos’s death will not win Doma her freedom,” Gosetsu argued, “more likely her doom. Can we defend our people against the Empire’s retribution? We few against a legion? Do not be a fool, child!”

Yugiri chewed her lower lip, considering his words. Finally, she met his gaze. “Mayhap I am a fool with foolish dreams of a future that will never be. But I cannot – I will not forsake them!” With that, the shinobi turned and walked out of the House of the Fierce.

“Yugiri, wait!” Lyse called after her.

“What now?” Alisaie asked.

T’lorna sighed. She had a feeling she knew exactly what would have to be done.

~*~*~*~

She trailed Yugiri to the outskirts of Namai, finding the woman standing in the shadow of the village.

“Did Gosetsu send you to stop me?” she asked.

“No,” T’lorna said softly.

“Then you came of your own free will? I should be surprised if you agreed with my chosen course. No one else did. But it is not as fanciful as they would have you believe,” Yugiri sighed. “Scant moments ago, I received the crown prince’s itinerary from one of our spies in the castle. ‘Twould seem that Zenos has no desire to remain in Doma any longer than necessary. He wishes to inspect the Moon Gates this very eve. His impatience is to our advantage. He arrived without warning and gave Yotsuyu no time to prepare. The whole castle is in a state of upheaval. To avoid any delay, he has declined a full escort, and will be traveling with no more than a handful of soldiers. The kami could not have blessed us with more auspicious circumstances. I _will_ kill him, T’lorna. I will.”

“You mean _we_ will kill him,” T’lorna replied evenly.

“Or die trying,” Yugiri said. “You understand the risks.” She stopped herself, looking abashed. “Forgive me. Of course you do. Mayhap better than I. But are you _sure_?”

“I am.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I… I cannot well express what this means to me. Yuzuka Manor is some distance from here. We must hurry!” With that, the two hurried off on their assigned errand, completely unaware that Isse had overheard their every word.

~*~*~*~

The women scouted the area near the Yuzuka Manor, looking for a spot that would allow them to remain hidden while still giving them a chance to observe and track Zenos’s approach. They found just such a spot atop the roof of a building and finalized their plans. Yugiri was planning a sudden attack that should take Zenos completely unaware. However, if that failed, then she and T’lorna would engage the Crown Prince in open combat. That settled, the pair settled in to wait.

“He comes,” Yugiri whispered. In the distance, T’lorna could see the Crown Prince surrounded by six guards, Yotsuyu trailing just behind him. Yugiri leapt high into the air as the group stood in the road, the Crown Prince taking in the sights with an air of bored dissatisfaction. She came down, taking down first one guard, and the another before leaping at the Crown Prince’s back. But Zenos had somehow sensed her attack and quickly drew one of his swords and blocked her attack with no effort.

“AMBUUUSH!” one of the guards shouted.

“Shinobi? And me without my brute…” Yotsuyu muttered.

“How weak you are,” Zenos said, sounding disappointed. “Is this the sum of your hate?”

“This is only the beginning!” Yugiri shouted. “For Lord Kaien! For Doma!”

Meanwhile, T’lorna had leapt lightly from the roof herself, equipped the dark knight soul stone that brought her armor and her great sword to her, and took out a few more of the guards.

“Mayhap I shall test this new blade of yours,” Zenos said to Yotsuyu. “Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound. Then again, I am loath to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come – earn the honor,” he taunted Yugiri. T’lorna moved to engage him as well, and the remaining four soldiers focused on the Auri woman while Zenos began to bore down on T’lorna. “First you must kill my men,” Zenos taunted. “You _can_ do that, can you not?”

T’lorna hefted her blade and engaged him. She met him, stroke for stroke, slowly wearing him down. He launched his customary powerful attacks and, this time, she found herself more equal to them. She dodged, leapt, and wove, staying out of range of his attacks and drawing him to where she wanted him.

“Very well. I suppose you have earned this…” Zenos said, still not winded.

“This is not a game, you twisted, arrogant bastard!” Yugiri shouted angrily as T’lorna continued to press her attack, keeping Zenos just slightly off-balance. He seemed almost happy when, suddenly, an explosion of energy flung T’lorna through the air, stunning her. She clambered to her knees, struggling to get a hold of her senses, and realized that she had been tossed nearly twenty fulms.

“Well done, beast,” Zenos said. “You have earned the right to look on the Ame-no-Habakiri.” With that, Zenos sheathed the blade he had been using and drew out another.

T’lorna managed to struggle back to her feet and get a grip on herself. She moved in, engaging Zenos again.

“What… what is this…? Kami forfend,” she heard Yotsuyu hiss in disbelief.

“No! I can still fight, I can still… still…” T’lorna heard Yugiri panting from nearby. However, she had no time to look for the other woman for Zenos was bringing more to bear against her, forcing her to move as swiftly as she could to block his attacks and continue to press her own against him. Just as it seemed that T’lorna was about to overpower Zenos and disarm him, he unleashed another explosion of pure energy that sent her flying, reeling, and striking hard against the side of a nearby house.

When she regained awareness, she struggled to push herself to her hands and knees. She saw Yugiri laying, facedown, nearby.

“Ahhh…” Zenos said, sounding pleased as T’lorna struggled to remove her helm and gulp down air. “I remember you. Ala Mhigo. The champion of the savages.”

T’lorna winced as she stared at Zenos. She felt certain that she was about to die. She wished that she had found time to call her son one last time and tell him that she loved him. She prayed that the Gryphon tribe would keep him safe and raise him well. Then, Urianger’s words rang in her mind.

“Look ye where the sun doth rise, see crimson embers, dark’ning skies. Look ye where the sun doth fall, see azure lost amidst the squall.”

Zenos lifted his blade high. The sword glowed with red and black clouds of energy. Then, suddenly, he lowered it. He removed his helm and studied T’lorna. “Oh, how right I was to spare your life,” he said calmly. She stared at him in confusion. The Crown Prince smiled, his expression almost warm and cheerful. She shuddered, wondering if he was about to order her imprisonment and then torture her further, in a manner only a captured woman could be tortured by her male captor. Instead, he cast his helm to the ground and continued to speak to her, almost as if they were friends. Or more like a master would speak to a well-trained dog. “Hear me, hero,” he said. “Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds – live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world – live!” T’lorna stared at him in shocked confusion.

Meanwhile, Yugiri had regained consciousness and struggled to her feet. She rushed the Crown Prince. Zenos merely unsheathed a blade, meeting her attack and sending her rolling back on the ground. “You are not worthy,” he said softly, sounding almost offended. He started to walk towards the fallen shinobi but an arrow flew, landing in the ground in front of his feet. He glanced up and saw a group of villagers bearing weapons, poised to rush and attack him. T’lorna was further shocked to see that Isse led them.

“Get away from them, you imperial dog!” the young man shouted as he nocked another arrow and prepared to fire it.

Yugiri weakly lifted her head. “No, don’t…” she protested. “You must… you must flee!”

“We’re not going anywhere! Do you hear me!?” Isse roared. “We’re not running away! What you’re doing is stupid and reckless and I never wanted any part of it, but here we are! I’ve spent my whole life hating myself – for every time they made me beg, for every time I held my tongue to protect the people I love. And then you came along and reminded me of all the things I never said and never did, and it was even worse! I would have given anything to forget, to walk away, but I knew that I’d never be able to live with the guilt. So we came – all of us! For you, for ourselves – for Doma!”

“Death is death, regardless of the reason,” Zenos said almost mournfully. “Yet you seem determined to die, intruding upon this sacred ground, turning weapons you can scarcely wield upon me. Your lives will not even begin to redress the balance.”

“How wrong you are!” T’lorna heard Alisaie shout. Then T’lorna felt the rush of healing energies surge through her as the red mage and Gosetsu ran to stand in front of the mob. A cloud of obscuring dust covered the area. “Go now! Gosetsu – see to Yugiri!” Alisaie ordered.

“Aye!” the samurai agreed.

“I can’t see a damn thing!” Yotsuyu coughed, choking on the smoke. “Someone stop them!” she screamed. “My lord!?” she asked in confusion. Just barely, the smoke obscuring her own gaze, T’lorna could see Zenos turn and begin to walk away. Yotsuyu moved to follow him and the pair left, leaving the villagers and their would-be assassins behind to regroup and flee for safer ground.

“I don’t think we were followed…” Alisaie said once they stopped some distance away. “Gods… I have no idea what was going through that man’s head but I am heartily glad he decided to leave. Oh, and don’t thank us. Thank Alphinaud. He’s at the House of the Fierce patiently awaiting your gratitude. You should’ve seen the way he turned pale when he heard about Yugiri’s plan – and how _you_ , of all people had decided to help her. He was in such a panic, barking orders, calling for a squadron to be assembled…”

“As were you,” Gosetsu said lightly.

“I was rather composed, as I recall,” Alisaie bristled. “Though that is neither here nor there.”

“Can you believe it?” Isse said, sounding both shocked and excited. “We faced the crown prince himself and lived to tell the tale! You’ve no idea what this means for us. Everyone’s talking about getting more weapons and armor and… and… And we’re not going to stop until we’ve taken back our homeland!” he finished in a rush. “Ah, right. Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” he laughed. “We’ve got wounded to tend to first. We should get back to the village!”

The group made its way back to Namai, keeping its pace slow so that those who were injured could keep up. T’lorna switched out her dark knight soul stone for her astrologian soul stone, allowing her to heal the injured while still giving herself an ability to attack if necessary. However, the trip to the village was uneventful. Once they were on the winding path that led up to Namai, Isse stopped. He turned to regard T’lorna with a mixture of admiration and awe.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “After fighting that demon, I can only imagine…” he sighed and shook his head. “I suppose I ought to apologize to you. For… you know…” he said, lowering his face and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Anyway, uh… Thank you. For not giving up on us. The shinobi too.” Then he led them into the village. Yugiri was hustled off to sit and one of the outdoor dining tables while one of the village women looked over her.

“How are you feeling, my lady?” she asked politely.

“Much the better for my comrades’ ministrations, and your most gracious hospitality. You need not worry,” Yugiri said with a smile.

“Good… If there is anything else we can do for the two of you – anything at all – just ask,” the woman replied. With that, the villagers left them in peace. T’lorna turned, pretending to speak to Yugiri but turning her ears so that she could hear what Isse and Gosetsu, standing some small distance away, were saying.

“Stare any harder and you’re like to burn a hole in them,” the samurai muttered. “Go and say your piece, for goodness’ sake!”

“I’ve got nothing more to say to them!” Isse protested. “I’m going to find out how the others are getting on.” With that, the young man rushed off. T’lorna and Yugiri took that as their sign to get up and speak with Gosetsu themselves.

“Gosetsu, Mistress Alisaie,” Yugiri said softly. “I owe you an apology. I acted with reckless disregard for my own safety, and endangered I know not how many others in so doing. Scorning your wise counsel, I knowingly defied our master’s wishes, and left you no choice but to follow suit.”

“Nonsense,” Gosetsu replied. “I followed our master’s wishes to the letter. Consider once more his words, and the intent therein. In offering his head, he but sought to shield his people from harm – loyal retainers included. You must value your life more highly, shadow walker.”

“On the other hand,” Alisaie grinned, “your recklessness did serve as an inspiration to many. Mayhap you should not be so hard on yourself. In any event, if you must apologize profusely, it seems only right that you expend as much effort thanking the one person who supported your plan from the first.”

T’lorna’s eyes widened in shock as Yugiri turned to her and said, “That it does. There are no words which will suffice… but thank you.”

“Aaaaaand there they are!” T’lorna heard Lyse shout. She looked over to see Lyse and Alphinaud running up the path that led to the village.

“Twelve be praised!” Alphinaud yelped. “When I learned of your rather questionable plot to assassinate Zenos, I feared we would need to recruit a new primal slayer.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be there,” Lyse added. “Alisaie made me swear to stay behind no matter what. I think she was worried I’d hurl myself at Zenos the moment I set eyes on him.”

The group turned as one to stare at Alisaie. “What?” she asked. “You’ll forgive me for changing the subject, but now would seem a good time to discuss where we go from here. Though the Empire has yet to retaliate, the fact remains that we have revealed our presence, and signaled our intentions in so doing. It is only a matter of time before the imperials move against us. Given that we lack the strength to oppose them, ‘this plain some manner of brilliant stratagem is required. Therefore, I yield the floor to the preeminent tactician of our time, with whom I was privileged to share a womb.”

Alphinaud blushed and then sighed. “If you insist,” he muttered. “While in Kugane we debated a number of approaches and were eventually forced to concede that we cannot look to the Alliance for aid. Even were it possible to ferry sufficient forces and materiel from Eorzea in a timely manner, such a massive undertaking would not long escape the attention of the Empire. ‘Twould be a miracle if our ships reached the shore. Fortunately, according to Tataru and Hancock’s intelligence, the Empire has withdrawn most of its forces from Doma in the past year, leaving her relatively unguarded. That being the cause, a popular uprising spearheaded by the full might of the Doman Liberation Front may feasibly be sufficient to threaten the seat of provincial government, namely Doma Castle. ‘Twould be rather easier said than done, of course, but I have seen worse plans prevail.”

“Then we must needs meet with Lord Hien and convince him to return, for there is no surer way to inspire our people to rise up as one. He desired proof of his subjects’ conviction, and they have provided it – through no less a deed than openly opposing Zenos himself!” Gosetsu laughed.

“It will work,” Lyse whispered. “It has to work. And next time, we will defeat him…”

With that, the group decided to move on to the Azim Steppe in order to find Lord Hien and, possibly, more allies to help them in liberating Doma and Ala Mhigo. As they were getting ready to leave, T’lorna heard Isse call out to them.

“Wait! Don’t leave yet!” he shouted. “Here, take these for the road. It’s simple fare,” he explained, offering up some rations that could be easily carried and consumed while on the move, “but it’s the least we can do for you, after what you did for us. It may be stupid and naïve of me to say this, but I will. When you come back, we’ll finish what we started. We’ll beat the imperials and we’ll win our freedom! So… don’t keep us waiting too long!”

In such high spirits, T’lorna and the others made their way back to the Ruby Sea and, from there, on to the Azim Steppe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being a little late. It took me longer to NG+ through this section while recording so that I could get the dialogue and story straight.


	56. A Reunion at Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the story moves into the Azim Steppe and the Naadam becomes a thing to participate in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square Enix's universe.

As T’lorna followed Yugiri through the cave that led to the Azim Steppe, she wondered what manner of place she would find on the other side. She knew little of steppes – there being none in Eorzea.

 _Perhaps Raha would have known what to expect_ , she thought to herself with a wistful smile. _He grew up in this region of Hydaelyn. I wonder if he ever saw…_

When she stepped out of the cave, she stopped and stared in awe at the majesty spreading out before her. Gentle, rolling hills of green grass sparkled and swayed in the soft summer sun. Rocky bluffs, their edges long since smoothed away by wind and rain, ringed the horizon. The singing of slow-flowing brooks and creeks filled the air. The air itself smelled of the sweet odor of dung used for fires and the rangy hint of wild animals. There were no great trees to provide shade but the sun itself seemed to beam down gently on this blessed land.

Noah would love it here.

They reached the first settlement, a trading nexus called Reunion. Yugiri seemed disquieted that Lord Hien was not waiting for her within the walls of the village. T’lorna and the others took his absence in stride and instead spent time coming to learn a bit about the locals – knowledge that Yugiri had not seemed fit to pass on.

T’lorna quickly learned that there were, by and large, three major groups outside of Reunion. All were Auri – it seemed that no tribes of Miqo’te, Elezen, Hyur, Lalafell, or Roegadyn made the Azim Steppes their home. Instead, the three tribes of Auri divided the land amongst themselves. The largest group, the current rulers of the Steppe until something called Nadaam, were the Orinir, devotees of Father Azim, the god of the sun. The next largest group were the Dotharl, devotees of the Dusk Mother Nhaama. Ranking third in power were the Mol, those who worshipped both Azim and Nhaama. Last, but no less respected than the Orinir, were the Qestir who controlled the settlement of Reunion and brooked no opposition to their rule within their territory.

After asking around, T’lorna stumbled upon a Mol tribeswoman named Cirina who could lead them directly to Lord Hien.

Cirina was small, scant inches shorter than T’lorna, and seemingly soft. As the Miqo’te studied the Xaela woman, she wondered how someone as small and timid as Cirina could have won the loyalty of a prince of Doma. Cirina dressed in pink leather robes that almost matched her pink-red hair. Her skin and scales were pale and completely feminine. She seemed to be the epitome of femininity with no harshness or brute strength about her. However, looking with her shaman-sight, T’lorna saw an aura painted in solid reds and golds. Physically frail though she might be, Cirina was _not_ a woman to be ignored or walked over.

“Oh… Oh, I see,” Cirina said in response to T’lorna’s questions. “You are looking for Hien. In that case…”

“How urgent this business must be to leave our conversation unfinished!” the merchant Cirina had been speaking to growled. “The kinsai. Will you buy it? There is but one bundle left. If not, then…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“I will, I will!” Cirina promised. “Though I had not thought to pay so high a price…”

“It is a bargain for which you should be grateful,” the merchant growled. “If you lack the coin, then the fault is your own, and you will leave with nothing.”

“Please, I must have the kinsai!” Cirina begged. “The gods themselves requested it! We are bound to their will!”

The merchant appeared to consider this. He then replied, “Pay me the difference in whisperroot. I will sell it to the next apothecary to pass through Reunion, and we will each feel fairly treated.”

“I understand,” Cirina replied. “Thank you for this kindness!”

T’lorna sighed. She was beginning to doubt her shaman-sight. Thus far, it had not played her for a fool but Cirina seemed to lack the strength her aura suggested.

Besides, T’lorna was growing tired of performing menial tasks. She longed to either fling herself into combat or to lose herself in scholarship. Sighing, she recognized her impatience as a sign that a heat might be upon her and resolved to discipline her thoughts more carefully. Even if this Cirina did make her want to tear her own hair out.

“I am sorry,” Cirina said to her, “but we must speak of Hien later. I cannot leave Reunion without that kinsai…”

“Fine,” T’lorna said with a sigh of impatience. “I will help you, then.”

“You… you want to help me, is that it?” Cirina said, sounding surprised. “I do not know what to say… Thank you, T’lorna, thank you! The lumbering ones we must fell wander the plains to the west of Reunion. If we each harvest two, then we should have enough whisperroot. Return here when you have finished. Good luck!” Cirina said swiftly. With that, the young Mol tribeswoman ran off and T’lorna followed after her to seek out the whisperroot.

It took surprisingly little effort to procure the root and then return to Reunion where Cirina waited for her. T’lorna handed the roots over to the pink-haired woman who thanked her.

“Blessed is he who shows kindness to strangers, for with fortune does he ever ride,” the Auri woman said softly. With that, Cirinia quickly concluded her trading, receiving the kinsai she desired. As the transaction was being wrapped up, Lyse, Yugiri, and Gosetsu spied T’lorna and joined her. She introduced them to Cirina and explained who she was.

“Ho, what fortune to meet a friend of the young master!” Gosetsu said boisterously.

“Well met, Cirina,” Yugiri said more politely. “If you have an inkling as to the current whereabouts of Lord Hien, we should be most grateful for your assistance.”

“Oh, please…” Cirina said, blushing. “It is I who should be grateful.”

Before anyone else could speak, a loud argument broke out, drawing their attention.

“Hold! What is this!? I came first – you second!” an Auri man wearing the blue robes of the Dotharl tribe, roared.

“Know you to whom you speak?” the man with whom he argued, an Auri dressed in the yellow robes of an Orinir, sneered. “All people of the Steppe should. Or have you fought so much that you have forgotten the face of your superiors?”

“Superiors?” the first man spat. “I spit on your superiority, little prince. Twisted and mad as sand devils, your kind are!”

“Those two don’t seem to like each other very much…” Lyse muttered.

“Those boys are of the Orinir and the Dotharl. The two strongest tribes,” Cirina explained. T’lorna nodded – she had already learned of the difference between the two. “The Children of Azim are destined to rule,” Cirina continued. “So they declare to all who will listen. Their word is law – for now. Grand, flamboyant fighters… but deadly. Very deadly. He prances as a horse, as do his brothers after their many recent victories. The undying ones too are strong. Fearless and vicious, they often reigned in the past. Now, they are sorely tested,” she added, gesturing to the Dotharl.” A third man approached, the lower half of his face covered with a mask and his robes a lighter color, a mix of pink and periwinkle. He just glared at the two others who seemed somewhat embarrassed. “Ah, the master of the markets. He is Qestir,” Cirina explained. “To fight in Reunion is forbidden, and to break the peace is to be banished forever. This he says without words, for words are lies to the Qestir. They do not speak.”

“That’s… interesting,” Lyse ventured. “And all these different tribes share the same lands, do they? No wonder it’s tense…”

“Hmph!” the Dotharl growled. “I shall look for you on the field at the Naadam. Mark my words!”

“Hah hah hah! As shall I!” the Orinir promised. “I shall take eleven more Dotharl heads to make a dozen with yours. I look forward to the day.” With that, the two men turned away and walked off in opposite directions.

“Their dispute will be settled at the ‘Naadam?’” Yugiri asked.

“A great battle held on the final day of the Tsagaan Sar,” Cirina replied. “During this time, all bonds of hierarchy are broken. All Xaela are equal and free to prepare for the fight. The tribe which triumphs in the Naadam rules until the next Tsagaan Sar. Which, in these lands, is now.”

“Ah, so that is what they call the custom,” Yugiri said, understanding. “I presume your tribe will also be taking part?”

Cirina’s expression became downcast. “Not all seek the Dawn Throne,” she said. “Some are satisfied with their lot. Others, like the Qestir, have reason to remain neutral. The Mol are lambs among wolves. Long were we content to remain apart and live quietly, but… Never mind that!” she said, her tone changing abruptly. “You seek Hine, yes? I know where he may be. Long ago,” she explained, “my grandmother, having received a vision from the gods, bade me go forth into the southern mountains. It was there that I found Hien, near death from many wounds. I brought him to our village, and there we nursed him back to health. Afterwards, he chose to remain, that he might repay us for our kindness. Domans set much store by honor and shame, so at first I did not question it…” she sighed. “Excuse me. If I could see your map for a moment…” T’lorna offered her the crude drawing of the Azim Steppe that they had been given before leaving Yanxia. Cirina studied it and then made a mark on it. “Here – he has grown fond of this place,” she explained. “It affords him a view of the markets and the Steppe. I would accompany you, but I must return to our village to prepare my grandmother’s meal,” she added. “Thank you again for your assistance!” With that, Cirina left, heading back to her village.

“Our long-awaited reunion is at hand!” Yugiri laughed. “Come, my friends – let us go and greet our lord and master!”

They walked a short distance, climbing up one of the rocky bluffs that overlooked Reunion. As they climbed, T’lorna spied a man sitting on the edge of the bluff. He had long, thick black hair that he wore in a topknot that flowed down his back. He wore yellow robes trimmed in fur and a katana on his hip.

“The kami are merciful!” Gosetsu said. “My lord Hien, I see you are alive and well!”

“Ah…” the man said in a soft baritone voice. “You are come sooner than expected. “So. My blade or my head. Which would you have of me?” he asked.

Yugiri and Gosetsu knelt down and the shadow walker spoke. “The people of Yanxia remain loyal to Doma. I have seen the fire in their eyes – they are ready to rise up and fight. The time is ripe, my lord. Return with us, blade in hand, and lead Doma to freedom.”

“Naught less than liberty will suffice, then? A pity,” he sighed. “It will prove far more difficult to deliver than my head. But if my people wish to pursue an impossible dream, then who am I to deny them?” With that, he rose to his feet and turned. T’lorna was shocked at how young the man was and how his green-gold eyes glowed with amusement. “Yugiri! Gosetsu! And… uh…?”

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, my lord,” Yugiri explained, “good and true friends who opened their hearts and homes to us when we fled to Eorzea. Far across the sea they have journeyed to stand with us in the fight for Doman liberation – to oppose the Empire, as they have in the West, where they are lauded as heroes for their many deeds.”

“Say no more, Yugiri,” Hien said. “Say no more. I observed how you helped Cirina, to whom I am deeply indebted. For that, and for the aid you provided my people, you have my deepest gratitude.” He bowed deeply to them and then continued. “There is no doubting your strength, nor our character. It would be my honor to fight by your side. So,” he said, turning to Yugiri and Gosetsu. “What of Doma? Arise, my friends, and tell me of our home.” They rose and told Hien of the events in Yanxia. The sun moved through the sky, coming close to the hills in the west, as they recounted the lengthy tale. When they finished, Hien nodded in understanding. “I have made my decision. Yugiri, I bid you return to Yanxia and take charge of our forces in preparation for my homecoming. As for our esteemed guests, I would ask that you remain here with me. I sense you will be a great help in the coming days.”

“Your will is my command, my lord, but… how much longer do you intend to stay?” Yugiri asked.

“Oh, only until I have won the contest,” Hien said with a bright grin. “I mean to return at the head of a Xaela army.”

“You mean to participate in the Naadam?” Yugiri asked, shocked.

“Have you a better idea?” Hien asked. “Consider how soundly we were defeated before. The imperials may have since grown weaker, but we are weaker still. ‘Twould be folly to challenge them without first supplementing our forces. So yes, I intend to win the Naadam and enlist the aid of every able-bodied Xaela I can! Furthermore, by championing the Mol in the contest, I can at last repay their kindness. Lest you forget, they saved me from certain death – and a man who suffers such debts to go unpaid is without honor and unfit to lead.”

Gosetsu threw his head back, roaring with laughter. “Just so, just so,” he chuckled. “Our lord has spoken, Yugiri. But take heart – I shall keep him safe… and should it come to it, bring him back by force.”

“This is no laughing matter, Gosetsu. But if these are my orders… Very well,” she sighed. “Once more I place my faith in you,” she said to T’lorna and Lyse. “Pray look after them both.” With that, the shadow walker leapt high into the air, making a grand exit to do her lord’s bidding.

“Looks like it’s up to us, then…” Lyse said. “Though it does seem a bit risky. Isn’t Hien mean to be the next king of Doma or something?”

“So they say,” Hien shrugged, answering the question himself. “Though, in truth, I am but a pale reflection of my late father. All the more reason to entreat your assistance. For ours is an impossible dream – to set in motion a revolution that will rattle the very firmament, and shake off the yoke of the most powerful empire in the world! But before we do that,” he said with a slight smile, “how are you called?”

“Lyse Hext,” Lyse replied.

“T’lorna Zhiki.”

“Once again, allow me to thank you for your many deeds in service to Doma,” Hien said graciously. “For twenty-five years did my father rule in name only. My rule – if one would deign to call it that – has been naught in comparison. That changes now. We have a purpose and a plan, and after we take to the battlefield together, we will have victory as well. But you are a practical woman, I can tell. Disinclined to trust in words when actions speak truer. I can relate…”

“I’m not always so practical,” T’lorna sighed. “If I were, I’d quit the adventuring business and stay home to raise my son. But, since I want a better, safer world for him to grow up in, I am frequently forced to leave him with others so that I can go out and do what it takes to build that better world. If that means fighting alongside you in the Naadam, then that is what I shall do.”

“You have a son?” Hien said, sounding surprised. “Though stories of your acts have traveled even here to Othard, I had not heard that you were a mother.”

“Yes, I have a son,” she said with a small grin. “He’s staying with his father’s tribe at the moment. They keep their homegrounds in Ilsabard.”

“Ah, so he is with his father. That is practical, I suppose.”

“No, his father is…” she sighed. “His father departed this world before Noah was born,” opting to give the answer that would take the least amount of time.

“Ah. My condolences on your loss. So…” he said, changing the subject with the subtlety of a brick to the head, “you too have heard of the Naadam. ‘The great battle for supremacy of the Steppe.’ I learned of it during my stay with the Mol. To my knowledge, no foreigners have ever participated, much less triumphed in a Naadam. But, lack of precedent notwithstanding, I should think we would have good standing to bid them march with us to Doma – should we win.”

“Will they even permit us to fight, my lord?” Gosetsu asked. “We belong to no tribe of the Steppe.”

“We are not without options,” Hien said, “given what Cirina has told me. You see, in accordance with the gods’ wishes, her people shall participate in the coming Naadam… And when they take the field, I mean for us to fight alongside them as fellow warriors of the Mol. But we need not discuss this at length here. Come, let us head north to Mol Iloh, where Cirina and her people have made camp for this season.”

~*~*~*~

The journey across the Steppes to Mol Iloh was uneventful. Hien paused periodically to point out some feature of the landscape or to tell them of the various settlements they could see in the distance. The major one, the one that dominated the region for malms, was the Sun Throne, the stronghold of the Orinir. As they crossed over one wide creek, Hien paused and gestured at the modest collection of hide huts in the distance ahead of them.

“My friends,” he said grandly, gesturing as if at a palace, “I give you Mol Iloh! The khatun of the tribe, Temulun, resides in the largest yurt. We should go and make our introductions.” He led them up to the settlement, the token guards nodding at him and his guests in welcome. They made their way into the large yurt.

“At last, the traveler comes…” Temulun said in greeting as they introduced themselves. Cirina stood next to her and it was clear that this woman was the grandmother of whom she had spoken back in Reunion. Though they bore little resemblance to each other, the elderly woman sat on a large wooden throne and exuded an air of command.

“Temulun Khatun, Cirina, I am returned,” Hien said.

“Ah, you found each other!” Cirina said happily.

“Ours is the soil, Hien. The Doman’s and the Eorzeans’, too,” Temulun said.

“You know us?” Lyse asked.

“The gods know you, child… as do the stars in the heavens, which shone bright at your coming,” Temulun explained.

“The Mol hearken to the whispers of the elder gods, which guide us in our daily lives,” Cirina added. “We know them through the udgan – like my grandmother.”

“Khatun, I am come to beg a boon of you, and yours,” Hien said. “That I might liberate my homeland, I seek to rally the strength of the Steppe. To that end, I wish to fight in the Naadam – as a warrior of the Mol. Will you grant me this honor?”

“To stand with the Mol is fruitless!” Cirina protested. “Hien, do not do this! The gods may have willed that our tribe join in the Naadam, but… There is no path to victory! We are weak and our numbers few. Even with your help, it would be impossible.”

“I thank you for your concern, Cirina,” he said warmly. “But it is precisely because of the seeming hopelessness of your cause that we must needs cast our lot with you. Were we to join hands with a more favored tribe, our victory would inevitably be attributed to them. And no one would follow me to Doma.”

“‘Twas the gods’ will that we fight,” Temulun said softly but firmly. “Mayhap this too is their design. Here me, then. As khatun of the Mol, I invite you all to join with us in the Naadam. Will you look after them?” she asked her granddaughter.

“Come with me, friends. There is much I would show you.” As they turned to follow the young Mol woman out, Temulun spoke.

“You, wait,” she said, gesturing to T’lorna. “I would have words. A singular radiance. Shimmering. Like a jewel of the Dusk Mother, blinding in its brilliance. Stars flicker and flock to you. Before such gathered light, even the secrets of the gods may be laid bare.” She lifted her gaze and looked out the open doors of the yurt to where her granddaughter stood speaking with Lyse and Hien while Gosetsu stood guard. “Some are fated to rise in grace and glory. Others to falter and fade, though not from memory. Both will be your strength and salvation come the end. Cherish the stars and the light they bring you in the dark,” Temulun said. “For you are a shaman, are you not?”

T’lorna nodded. She scanned back and thought over the woman’s words, pondering the meaning behind them – the vision that the woman must have seen. She studied Temulun with her shaman-sight, unclosing the part of her aether that allowed her to see the woman’s aura. It was solid, like the earth to which she was so drawn, but shot through with silver and gold, indicating that the spirits did speak to and through her.

“We will bring you great honor come the Naadam, ugdan and khatun of the Mol,” T’lorna said firmly.

“You will do as the gods will,” Temulun replied with a smile. “But, for now, speak with my granddaughter to learn more about the kettle into which you have flung yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to wrapping up Stormblood, to be honest. I can't wait to get back into Shadowbringers both in NG+ and in the story. :)


	57. Sun, Moon, and Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I got everything up to the Nadaam covered. I will have it and Doma Castle in the next chapter but since this one was already up to twenty-five pages, I figured I'd go on and post it versus waiting for the next five to ten pages for the Naadam to be ready.
> 
> The Azim Steppe is easily my favorite zone in Stormblood. I love the whole interplay with the various tribes in that region. However, since I want to get out of Stormblood soon, I can promise that the next few Ala Mhigo chapters will be pretty heavily elided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in SquareEnix's universe.

“My friends,” Cirina said. “I must warn you. The path upon which you embark is fraught with peril. You will journey unto the far reaches of the Steppe to confront a terrible foe, as did the warrior Bardam in the days of yore. Three days he battled with the demon ere he returned to his people. So it is written, so must it be. Many who follow in his footsteps perish, lacking in strength of body and mind. Therefore… We must treat you to a great feast!” she said with a bright smile. The four fighters stared at her in shock. “Have… have I said something strange?” she asked. “The hungry fox starves staring at the bull’s testicles, therefore warriors should be well fed on the eve of battle!”

Hien threw his head back and roared with laughter. T’lorna, for her part, blushed lightly at the thought of a fox staring at a bull’s testicles and thinking ‘that looks tasty.’

“She does have a point,” Hien said when he wound down and began knuckling tears from the corners of his eyes. “You have been keeping busy in my absence. A brief repast may be in order, lest we collapse of fatigue and malnourishment in the midst of our trial.”

“Yes, just so!” Cirina agreed. “However, it will take time to prepare.”

“Is there anything we can do to help? It might also give us a chance to learn more about your people and their ways,” Lyse offered.

“Well, if you insist,” Cirina replied, “I am sure that the others would be glad of your assistance. Hmm… Would you go and speak with Dorbei, Lyse?” Lyse nodded and ran off. “As for you three – you can help me with another task. For today’s feast the gods decreed that we lure gulo gulo to slaughter with entrails. Perhaps you could be the ones to do this?”

“That your people look to the gods for guidance, I understand,” Gosetsu said in reply, “but in your daily meals! I say, your grandmother must be quite busy.”

“Some days more than others,” Cirina laughed. “But every night we come together around the cookfire.”

“Even babes must earn their keep on the Steppe,” Hien said. “Give over the entrails, Cirina. We will bring you a bounty of meat!”

Cirina handed over several packs of entrails. T’lorna took her share and then reached into her belt pouch and closed her fingers around the bard soulstone. She felt her armor shift to the comfortable leathers and the bow and arrows to form on her back and hip. She took a deep breath – she always thought of G’raha Tia whenever she took on the role of an archer. Finally, her harp appeared on her hip opposite her quiver and she felt the power of the songs she had learned surge in her mind. She opened her eyes to see Cirina staring at her in fascination. With a polite bow, T’lorna left the camp, setting out on search of the gulo gulo.

She moved through the Steppes quietly, her footfalls less loud than the whisper of wind in the grass. Whenever she spied a group of gulo gulo milling about in a likely spot, she staked out the entrails and then moved to set the trap. By the time she had run out of entrails, she had collected six slabs of gulo gulo meat.

“Ho! It would seem that, at the very least, you are the _faster_ hunter,” Hien teased as he walked up to where T’lorna was waiting with Gosetsu. “But speed is not everything. For my part, I slew six gulo gulo!”

“Aye, that you have, my lord. As for T’lorna,” Gosetsu said, “six gulo gulo did she slay too! ‘Twould seem you have met your match, my lord.”

“Of all the possible outcomes,” Hien laughed, “this is perhaps the most amusing. And perhaps the most auspicious. Though I would have preferred to win the day, I shall settle for the whimsy of the kami.” T’lorna nodded at him with a smile. “And with that, our game is concluded. Let us return to Mol Iloh forthwith – and let us have T’lorna present our meat to Cirina.” Gosetsu handed the sack with the twelve slabs of gulo gulo meat to T’lorna while Hien continued to speak. “Mayhap you are unfamiliar with traditional Xaela cuisine? Let not its appearance deceive you – it is quite hearty and nourishing. Were it not so, I doubt they could have nursed me back to health. You should have seen the state I was in…” he sighed with a soft laugh. He shook his head, forbidding further questions. The trio walked back into Mol Iloh where T’lorna handed the sack over to Cirina.

“My word, this is impressive!” the Xaela said with delight. “Or were you so hungry that you felt the need to kill so many? Well! I shall endeavor not to disappoint you all with my cooking!” she promised.

~*~*~*~

That evening, once the feast had been prepared and the four of them had eaten well of it, T’lorna learned that they were to prove themselves worthy of being warriors of the Steppe by entering Bardam’s Mettle and beating the trials therein to prove themselves worthy of claiming the loyalty of the yol – the fierce birds of the Steppe that submitted only to those who were worthy of fighting in the Naadam. As T’lorna and Cirina chatted, Lyse, wearied by her time helping to gather dung for the fires, nodded off to sleep. They looked up to see that Hien and Gosetsu had also vanished. But Cirina and T’lorna could hear the two men shouting off in the distance. Nodding in understanding, the two women quietly made their way over to where they could observe the pair without being observed themselves.

The two samurai were squaring off against each other, their katanas bared in front of them.

“Not troubled by your old wounds, I see,” Gosetsu said.

“Nm. Nor you by yours,” Hien quipped. He lowered his face and frowned. “I know I should have fled with the others after Father died, instead of blindly fighting on. It was reckless and foolish, and there was naught to be gained from it. Everything to lose, rather…” he admitted, the words dragged out of him unwillingly.

“We know no path save the one we walk,” Gosetsu said. “I myself am in no hurry to meet those who have gone before – not while I have still to make amends.”

“Well said,” Hien replied. With that, he rushed Gosetsu and the pair dueled. They clashed and then sprang apart, resetting.

“You are none the worse for your time in the wilderness,” Gosetsu said. “On the contrary, I would say you have improved.”

“Come now,” Hien replied, “your victories still far exceed mine. Or have you forgotten all the times you trounced me as a boy?”

“I… feared I would not see you again,” Gosetsu admitted reluctantly.

“A life so fortuitously saved should be spent wisely,” Hien said carefully. “Without regret would I have traded it for our people’s amnesty, had it been their will. Instead, they have called for the sword, and so that is what I must be. Until this blade is broken, I can but carve a path forward. Were you truly so concerned for my well-being?” he asked. “You never allowed it when we used to spar.”

Gosetsu shrugged. “How you cried when you lost,” he replied. “And when your mother tried to comfort you. And when you inevitably came at me once more, swinging your wooden sword wildly… Mina’s little master Shun. What a fine young man you’ve become!”

“A man should not be addressed by his childhood name,” Hien protested. “I’ve told you about that before! Ah, the mask slips!” he laughed, spying T’lorna and Cirina spying on them. “And I was so close to cultivating a winning persona.”

T’lorna grinned and walked up to the two men.

“There will be opportunity enough for putting on airs after you have returned in triumph to Doma,” Gosetsu said. “Now is the time to show our true character.”

“So long as we win when it counts,” T’lorna said, resisting the urge to tease Hien by calling him by a childhood name.

“Oh, you need not doubt my conviction,” Hien promised. “I have but one goal, to which I am wholly devoted. Join us next time, and you shall see for yourself!”

With that, they returned to the Mol settlement to prepare to set out for their next trial.

~*~*~*~

Full from the feast and rested after a brief respite, the four made their way to the entrance to the battleground known as Bardam’s Mettle. They had fought their way to the entrance of the trial land, proving themselves worthy of, at least, facing the trial that would grant them the worthiness of being warriors of the Steppes and fighting in the Naadam itself.

“Nothing left but to begin, then,” Hien said as they stood in front of the entrance to Bardam’s Mettle. “To complete the trial, we must each pas through Bardam’s Mettle and tame a yol. How precisely we are to do this, I am not sure, but since countless warriors before us have succeeded, I imagine we’ll muddle through somehow… But enough talk! We have a Naadam to win!”

With that, the four walked through the entrance to face the trials within. T’lorna sighed and activated her astrologian soul stone so that she could provide healing energies while the other three focused on bringing down their foes quickly. Together, they pressed their way through the only route available, fighting wild beasts and magical constructs until they reached a clearing that presented their first true challenge.

“Thus spoke Nhaama: ‘Hunters in whose veins flows moonlight, show me your mettle!” a majestic voice roared through the air. “Pass, blood of my blood, for you are of the Dusk and of the Steppe. Thus spoke Azim: ‘Warriors in whose veins flows sunlight, show me your mettle!’ Pass, blood of my blood, for you are of the Dawn of the Steppe.”

They fought past a great, oversized beast who challenged them with sudden charges, cries that roused other beasts to attack, and strong slams of its hooves to the ground that made the warriors’ bones shake. Finally, however, it fell dead at Hien’s feet and the four made their way deeper into Bardam’s Mettle. They worked their way through the area known as the Fall of Bardam the Boastful. This section of the trial housed few beasts but many constructs placed in their path by whoever it was who monitored the trial itself. They fought their way through until they reached another clearing, a flat platform of stone guarded by a gigantic rock construct.

“You who would become Warriors of the Steppe!” the construct roared. “With death you will dance! The first trial is upon you…” it warned. The circular platform was lit up with blue lines forming an ‘x’ that divided it into perfect quarters. A new construct appeared in the center of the arena, its gaze piercing in a manner that warned the four to look away and to move carefully to avoid its attacks. “Two failures are yours to bear… All will be held to account… All will know the end…” the voice promised. The four moved carefully, watching the warning lights on the ground that told them where the attacks were coming. T’lorna heard a chime that indicated that the trial was over.

“The second trial is upon you…” the voice rang. Again, the four moved to block or dodge the incoming attacks. This one was more difficult to maneuver through but they managed it, if just by the skin of their teeth.

“The third trial is upon you… Be not afraid of falling stars,” the voice warned them. Huge boulders fell into the arena. T’lorna hid behind one, letting it act as a shield between her and whatever attack was coming. The four continued to move, dodging various attacks until, at last, the construct spoke once more. “Yea, you worthy successors of Bardam! Yours is the Steppe and everything in it!” it roared as the construct crumbled into large boulders that formed a pathway from the platform to the next stage of the trial. Winded but not defeated, the four pressed their attack through the last section of the trial, arriving at a final platform where a massive yol flew down to challenge them.

Using what they had learned from the previous trials, the four fighters dodged and wove through the various attacks, lashing out and striking at the massive bird until, at last, it fell in defeat at their feet. In triumph, the four made their way back through the maze and onto the Azim Steppe.

“Oh, right,” Lyse said as they stopped to take a brief rest. “I’ve still got those whistles Cirina gave me. Here,” she said, passing them out. “I suppose we ought to give them a try like she said.” As one, all four blew into their whistles and then waited, watching the sky. “Up there, look!” Lyse shouted excitedly. Four yol were descending towards them. “I think that means we’ve won them over. That one there is yours, right?” she asked, pointing to the one regarding T’lorna placidly. “The other one is mine. Awww…” the other two swooped down to land in front of Hien and Gosetsu. Lyse patted her yol fondly and T’lorna found herself doing much the same. “So that’s that, then!” Lyse said brightly. “We’re officially warriors of the Steppe!” However, before they could pause to truly enjoy their victory, a squad of Orinir in bright yellow robes rushed them, surrounding them.

“You! Yea, you who have walked Bardam’s Mettle,” their leader said loudly. “Newborn warriors of the Steppe. Our khan demands an audience. You will come.”

“I remember those clothes,” Lyse muttered. “He’s Orinir, isn’t he? What should we do?” she asked.

“Ordinarily, I would politely decline,” Hien replied in an undertone. “But this may be an opportunity to assess their strength, and we do have some time before the Naadam begins… If it all goes to play, they will be fighting for us soon enough,” he pointed out when it seemed that Lyse might argue. “What say you? Shall we go and greet our comrades to be?”

“If you insist,” T’lorna sighed.

“Whatever happens, we shouldn’t keep Cirina and the others waiting,” Lyse replied. “Let’s be ready to make a swift exit, all right?”

Hien nodded to the blonde Hyur and then approached the leader of the Orinir gathered in front of them. “We accept your khan’s generous offer,” he said loudly. “Lead the way.” The Orinir warriors saluted and then turned, escorting them to the Dawn Throne. They walked through the Steppe without challenge and then took the elevator from the Steppe up to the settlement where the Orinir reigned.

“Two banners,” Lyse observed as they walked into the Orinir stronghold. “So it’s not just Oronir we’re dealing with…”

They were then led into a large stone building. In the main room, a Xaela man sat on a throne much like the one T’lorna had seen Temulun sitting on in Moh Iloh. Their escort bowed respectfully to the man sitting upon it and spoke.

“Most radiant brother, Magnai,” he said. “We have brought back the ones you seek.” He then walked off to the side, letting the man in black robes seated upon the throne study the four for many long moments. Finally, Magnai spoke.

“You conquered Bardam’s Mettle,” he said carefully.

“As warriors of the Mol, aye,” Hien replied. “You are the khan here, yes? Why have you summoned us? Mayhap to propose a joint endeavor?”

“Nay, Doman,” the khan of the Dawn Throne said coolly. “We shall not speak as equals. Born of the sun are Oronir, and born of he earth are you. When I learned of trespassers, I bade my warriors take their measure. To flay them if they failed. But if by the grace of Azim they should survive their trial and emerge anointed, then bring them hither to pay tribute. Tribute, should it prove satisfactory, shall earn you the favor of the Sun,” he explained. “His beloved shall bask in his radiance, and their supplications be duly considered.”

“So you want us to bow down and serve you. What if we don’t fell like it?” Lyse asked carelessly.

“The defiant will suffer in shadow,” Magnai replied. “It would be an affront to the resplendent Azim himself to refuse this generous offer when by rights you should be condemned. But, in lieu of tribute… Swear fealty to the Sun. Pledge to him your body and soul. Promise to serve him unto death, and you may know his glory. A generous offer granted to but few…” he said softly, “though perchance this is too merciful.” A blue-skinned man turned and began to argue with Magnai. The khan let the warrior say his piece before turning back to the four in front of him. “Hm,” he sighed. “It seems our brothers of the Buduga want you. The men only,” he added with a dark grin. “Like the Borlaaq and women – though you know them not either, I am sure. No matter,” he shrugged. “All you need know is that you will serve, one way or another.”

“That much does indeed seem plain,” Hien said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “However, as we are but newborn warriors who know little of your customs, we struggle to conceive of ways in which we might be of service to the most gracious and illustrious Sun.”

“You make mock of us, Doman,” Magnai said, his expression darkening with anger. “Do not do so again.” He took a breath and then continued in a lighter tone. “You will be given a task. It will be difficult. You will carry it out. When you have accepted this, you may ask me what it is.” The four looked at each other and then shrugged. It seemed they had little choice but to play this out. They bowed politely to Magnai who sighed. “Were I Buduga, I might take offense. But I know better than to dismiss a woman outright,” he said, glaring at T’lorna. “You demonstrate boldness… or recklessness. Time will tell. The Naadam approaches, and the Oronir will reign supreme once more. Such is the will of Father Azim. Yet only fools think to triumph by the grace of the gods alone – and we are not fools,” he warned. “Your task will be to aid us in our preparations. Baatu will tell you the rest.”

Baatu turned out to be the Oronir who had stirred up trouble at Reunion and who had sought them out to demand they come to the Dawn Throne after completing Bardam’s Mettle. He did not seem most pleased to be forced to interact with those he considered his inferiors. With several meaningful glances at Magnai, Baatu sighed and began to issue his orders.

“Warriors of the Steppe!” he said, his expression twisted with distaste. “By the grace of our most radiant brother, you will not die this day, but instead be granted an opportunity to contribute to our cause. Rejoice, for this is a great honor indeed. Serve will, and you will be rewarded.”

“Question!” Lyse demanded. “You keep calling Magnai your ‘most radiant brother.’ You’re not related or something, are you?”

Baatu threw his hands out in a frustrated gesture before replying. “All Oronir are descendants of Father Azim,” he explained tersely. “But if you mean to ask if our mothers are one and the same, then no. The most radiant is the elder brother to we younger – the strongest and most deserving of respect. No more interruptions!” he snarled when it seemed Lyse would ask another question. “Your duties are as follows. You, the red woman,” he said, speaking to Lyse. “You will milk our beasts. To grow strong, one must be well fed, and we have great need of kumis and cheese.”

“Is that it?” Lyse asked. “I mean, I’m not happy about all this, but I suppose I can go along for now.” She sighed, shrugged, and walked out of the building to perform her task.

“You, the one who lumbers as a mountain…” Baatu sighed, speaking to Gosetsu. “Hm. An old warrior, I see. We have arms and armor in need of repair. Go and speak with our menders.”

“I have no talent for delicate work, but if that is your wish, then so be it,” Gosetsu said before he followed in Lyse’s steps.

“You, the insolent fool,” Baatu said to Hien. “As for you…”

“This one caries the fire,” a blue-skinned Xaela man said as he walked up to loom over Hien. “The Buduga would take his measure.” The blue-skinned man then spoke directly to Hien. “Seek my comrade outside tending to the stores. He will give you your task. You will know him by his cloth – unlike they of the yellow, we are of the green.”

“I, for one, would welcome the opportunity to learn more of the Buduga and their ways,” Hien said. “It would be an honor!”

“We shall speak of our task outside,” Baatu said to T’lorna. “With me.” She nodded and followed him out of the building, stopping when he paused in front of a yurt. “Your name, foreigner?” he asked arrogantly.

“I am called T’lorna,” she said calmly.

“T’lorna, then. You are to dive into Azim Khaat, below the Dawn Throne, and gather swordgrass from the lakebed. It is an invaluable ingredient in many medicines. Eight bundles will you bring. You will need to dive deep to obtain that which we seek… but that shall pose no trouble for a true warrior, no?” he chuckled. “Some say that the dominion of the Dawn Father and the Dusk Mother does not extend beneath the water. But ours does, the Oronir fear naught above nor below. Speak with the guard to descend. We shall speak again when you have finished.”

~*~*~*~

Diving beneath the waters that surrounded the Dawn Throne posed no great difficulty to T’lorna. Blessed by the Kojin as she was, swimming and breathing underwater were no great strife. She searched through the murk, finding the swordgrass plants, and soon had gathered in the required eight bundles.

Their errands were done by the time T’lorna returned to the settlement and handed over the swordgrass. Magnai seemed pleased with them for doing as they had been told. However, when Hien requested permission to leave, Magnai refused, claiming that such a boon was not in line with the small services they had provided. Hien then changed his request to one that Magnai granted – the chance to learn more of the people of the Steppe and their ways. Together, Hien and T’lorna sought out the storyteller Udutai. After performing a task for him – rounding up his missing sheep – the Oronir storyteller was more than happy to share his knowledge about the Auri.

“Before we begin, tell me: what do you know of the Au Ra, and how they came to be?” he asked.

“In the days before me, Azim and Nhaama waged a bitter war…” T’lorna began.

“Yes, yes,” Udutai nodded in approval. “A common tale, and one believed by many tribes. But what it does not mention is this: Azim and Nhaama were lovers. Oh, they fought in the beginning, as did their creations. That much is true. But when they saw how the Xaela and the Raen rose above their hatreds and joined hands in harmony, their hearts stirred, and the love their children shared became theirs as well. Alas,” he sighed, “he was of the sun and she of the moon. Apart they must remain, lest day and night cease to be, and with them all creation. With sadness in their hearts they returned to the heavens – he to the day, she to the night, destined to walk before and after, never to meet. As time passed, Azim’s yearning for his beloved grew deeper still. Was there truly naught that could be done, he wondered. At last, he knew. ‘If the Father cannot be with the Mother, then he shall go amongst her children. Now and ever after.’ So it was that Azim took a fragment of his being and with it fashioned an avatar. Clad in scale of midnight, he descended, and sought out the Xaela. Yea, he was the first Oronir. We are of his flesh and his blood. We are the children of Azim, and it is our duty to watch over and keep the Xaela safe.”

“I confess,” Hien said softly, “I did not expect the tale of your people’s beginnings to be quite so romantic. Yet I must ask: if it is your duty to defend the Xaela, how can you go to war with them in the Naadam? Is that not a contradiction?”

“If a father disciplines his son,” Udutai asked, “does that mean there is no love in his heart? Xaela are not wont to kneel. They must be made to – only then will the heed reason.”

“I see…” Hien replied. “Such is the way of the Steppe. Thank you, elder, for sharing with us your wisdom.”

“Eager to depart?” Udutai grinned. “Ere you go, you would do well to hear the end of my tale. When Nhaama looked down and saw the avatar of Azim, she knew him at once, and she tears of love and longing,” he continued. When they struck the earth, they rose anew, as a counterpart to the Oronir. Their fates entwined. So you see, for every son of Azim is a daughter of Nhaama for whom he must search. Even now.” With that the storyteller nodded, indicating that his tale was complete. Hien and T’lorna walked off a bit before Hien stopped, his expression thoughtful.

“Mayhap I am being overly optimistic, but I sense that these Oronir may prove loyal allies to Doma under the right circumstances. Their arrogance is rooted in the belief that they must act as caretakers of all Xaela. Therefore, if we can prove to them that we come as kindred spirits, seeking to defeat a common foe… But mayhap this is a discussion for _after_ we win the Naadam. Come, let us return to Magnai.”

~*~*~*~

Magnai was pleased that their ignorance had been cured. However, he was not going to let them go so easily.

“A pity you will not pledge yourselves to the Sun,” Magnai sighed as the four gathered in front of him. “You might have proved useful in the coming Naadam. Nevertheless, I will permit you to return and fight for the Mol. Their cause is futile, with our without your assistance. However, you must first complete a final task, as was my decree. You will reconnoiter the encampment of the Dotharl.” The quartet lurched in surprise. “For this task, two will go, and two will remain,” Magnai continued. Should the two who embark upon this expedition choose to flee, or be captured or killed by the Dotharl, then the others will be taken as slaves and sever the Sun unto death.”

“We’d better not fail then, eh?” Lyse chuckled. “The question is, who should we send?”

“That is not for you to decide,” Magnai said firmly. “All of you have conquered Bardam’s Mettle and proven yourselves warriors of the Steppe. You should all be equally capable of carrying out this task, and therefore, you should have no objections.”

And that was how T’lorna found herself and Gosetsu setting out from the Dawn Throne to scout the lands of the Dotharl and bring back any information they could find on the tribe. They reached the sandy region that the Dotharl laid claim to without incident and, upon arriving, saw two Dotharl tribesmen fighting a pack of monsters. Without a thought, the pair waded into the battle, beating the creatures back and saving one of the two hunters. One of their tribeswomen stood aloof, dismissive of them.

“What is this?” she asked angrily. “Who are these outsiders?”

“Sadu Khatun!” the wounded hunter said. “Forgive me. We were returning from our hunt when we were caught unawares by manzasiri. These ones saved me, but Geser is…”

The woman, Sadu, stared at the body of her slain tribesman and then addressed T’lorna and Gosetsu. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Why have you come? Not to cross the sands, that much is certain.”

“If I may begin to answer your questions before you ask more… we are friends of the Mol, and we are come to see the strength of the Dotharl for ourselves,” Gosetsu replied.

“The Mol?” Sadu laughed. “The little lambs who wander to and fro at the behest of their gods? What fools you are to share the soil of such weaklings! Next you will tell me you wish to fight in the Naadam!” The twin looks of disgust and anger answered her comment and Sadu sighed. “Ah… so you do. Hah! That is unexpected… yet not unwelcome. I am Sadu, Khatun of the Dotharl,” she introduced herself. “For your deeds, I grant you leave to walk among us. Come. Look on our glory and despair. We fear no tribe – least of all the Mol. Though, if you were of the Oronir, I would burn the flesh from your bones here and now. You can stand, yes?” she asked of her tribesman. “See to the corpse.”

“Y-yes, Khatun!” the wounded hunter said. With that, the khatun walked off, heading back to her settlement.

“So that is the leader of the Dotharl,” Gosetsu sighed as he watched her walk off. “Clearly not a woman to be crossed. But how callously she spoke of her dead! ‘See to the corpse?’ Surely this warrior deserves better than that… Forgive me, T’lorna,” he sighed, “but I cannot in good conscious ignore the callous disregard that woman showed for her kinsman! We must seek her out at once! With me!”

They followed in the direction that Sadu had gone and soon were at the Dotharl village. It was a collection of yurts in an oasis within the sandy desert region of the Steppe. Dotharl warriors moved easily through it, sparing the visitors little more than an assessing and dismissive glance. As they walked up to Sadu, they overheard her addressing one of her tribeswomen.

“How he died matters not,” she was saying. “Geser was a great warrior. He will return to us in time, Shar.”

“Not soon enough, Khatun,” the other woman, Shar, replied. “The Naadam is nearly upon us! Mayhap we should counsel restraint until after…”

“I do not understand,” Gosetsu said. “If Geser is dead, how should he ‘return?’”

“Silence,” Sadu ordered. “You come to spy on us knowing naught of our ways?”

“We know you are fearless,” Gosetsu replied. “And that you are called the ‘undying ones…’”

Sadu nodded. “That is true,” she agreed. “None are braver than the Dotharl, for we do not fear death. With death a warrior must dance boldly. Fearlessly. For thus does his soul burn bright. Then, in death, his soul shines white – exalted. The flesh rots, but the soul endures. And ere the seasons have turned, so he shall return. When he is glimpsed in the eyes of a newborn, he is blessed with the same name, that he may grow into a great warrior once more.”

“You mean to tell me these newborn babes and fallen warriors are one and the same?” Gosetsu demanded. “Madness!”

T’lorna glanced around, seeing that the nearby Dotharl were all glaring at them.

“I gave you leave to observe,” Sadu said coldly. “Not to insult our beliefs. Have care what you say. Otherwise, do as you will.” Her piece spoken, the khatun stormed off, leaving Gosetsu and T’lorna on their own once more.

“Such contempt as was in their eyes I have never known,” the samurai said softly. “But for the soul to live on as they say is not something I can so easily accept. Do they truly believe this? That in death there can be rebirth? Retribution?” he sighed and shook his head. “In any event, we came here in search of information. We cannot leave without speaking with her people.”

The pair moved through the village, speaking with Dotharl. From their talk with the villagers, they learned that the Dotharl did, indeed, truly believe in their doctrine of rebirth. Gosetsu sighed, accepting that the Dotharl believed this even if he struggled to accept it as a reasonable belief himself. At last, eager to make their way back to the Dawn Throne to retrieve their friends before the Naadam, they returned to Sadu who greeted them with a sneer.

“The spies return. And they have learned naught.”

“Mayhap so, but no longer!” Gosetsu retorted. “Though you hide it well, I _know_ you have devised some manner of cunning stratagem for the Naadam! Out with it, I say!”

“We are what you see, Doman,” Sadu replied. “We are Dotharl. Others rely on tricks and traps. Subterfuge. Lies. We have need of naught but our own strength. We meet the enemy in battle and kill him. That is why I cared not what you did from the first,” she explained. “There is naught for you to learn. Tell your masters to meet us on the field, and make ready to ride with their ancestors.”

“Your confidence is plain, as is your strength,” Gosetsu conceded. “Yet you are not the most prosperous of tribes. The Mol you mock are few, but so too are you. Why?”

Sadu looked aside, sighing and shaking her head. “Though a glorious death is to be celebrated, it is yet death,” she said softly. While we kill many, many are killed in turn. In the wake of our battles, the soil drinks deep of the blood of the fallen, their bodies piled high. Not all are born again. Only the bravest. Yet one cannot return unless there is a vessel to inherit the soul, and if warriors die ere they birth children, then that is that. Even the brave warrior who finds a vessel will for many years remain a shadow of his former self. It falls to his elders to endure until he is ready to accept his responsibilities. Ever will we meet our enemies in battle without fear. Such is our way, even when our numbers dwindle. If we die, so be it – but know that we fight to live, not to die. Dotharl train and make ready for the day – but they do not rush to meet it. Not until we have done our duty. If you intend to fight in the Naadam, you should return to the Mol and make ready,” she added. “But know that when next we meet, you and yours will die… Or you could fight for us and live. Think on it, travelers.”

“We shall,” Gosetsu promised as they set off to retrieve their comrades and make their own preparations for the coming Naadam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, I love the Azim Steppe. It was the only part of Stormblood that I really liked up until the whole "mysterious voice" that started cropping up in the build-up to Shadowbringers. I need to NG+ through the first half of the post-Stormblood stuff so I can see what I need to include in the story and what I can just ignore. I'll be working on that as I write up the Naadam and the Doma Castle fights for next week and try to get through the whole "Ala Mhigo is free now" stuff in one or two chapters with a third capstone chapter on the fights with Zenos.


	58. The Naadam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I am almost done with the Doma Castle stuff but got distracted by the FFXIV showcase and didn't get it quite finished. That's why I went on and just posted the Naadam stuff. You'll get Doma Castle next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square Enix's universe.

After returning to the Dawn Throne and speaking with Magnai once more, telling him what they had learned amongst the Dotharl, he was forced to let them all return to the Mol.

“By your deeds have you proven yourselves to be warriors brave and true. You may return to the Mol and make ready for the Naadam… on one condition. To fight in the Naadam is to be bound by it. Swear, here and now, to abide by the law of the Steppe. To accept the supreme authority of the khagan, whomsoever it may be.”

“We swear!” the four roared in agreement.

Magnai grinned, baring his teeth at them as they turned and left. Taking the elevator back down to the Steppe, the quartet made their way back to Moh Iloh, enjoying the bright sunshine and the clear air that came with knowing that they had been accepted as warriors of the Steppe and that their participation in the Naadam had been sanctioned. None of them thought that they would fail to come out on top, making the Mol the rulers of the Steppe and gaining themselves valuable allies in the many battles to come.

~*~*~*~

“Thank the gods you are all right!” Cirina sighed in relief when the four of them returned to Moh Iloh. “When you failed to return, I feared the worst. But here you are, hale and whole! And you survived Bardam’s Mettle! Blessed are we to have you as allies. With your strength, we may have a chance… Once you have rested,” she added with a grin. “You look as if you have been put through a rather difficult trial.”

“That would not be completely inaccurate,” Hien laughed. “Some rest would be welcome.”

“Come,” Cirina said, “I will take you to the guest yurts where you may bathe and sleep. On the morrow, we will talk further about the future.”

She led them out of the main yurt and towards a collection of smaller ones nestled back against the hillside. T’lorna and Lyse took one and Gosetsu and Hien chose another. Cirina gestured to the features of each yurt, explaining where tubs with small fires kindled under them could be used for bathing and then showing them the padded mats for sleeping. Lyse fished a gil out of her pocket and flipped it in the air with T’lorna calling out “heads.”

“Tails,” Lyse laughed in triumph. “I’ll bathe first.”

“I will bring you some food to tide you over until the morning,” Cirina said quietly as she left the yurt on her errand. Meanwhile, T’lorna headed over to her padded mat and settled down, pressing the buttons on her linkpearl that would connect her with her son.

“Hey Mama,” she heard Noah say loudly. “I answer it, Papi,” he said to G’wain. “It Mama.”

“Hey baby,” T’lorna chuckled. “Are you being good?”

“I good. I best. I climb big tree today. Cousin Arin climb too. He help me down when Orbie tell him where I been.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun today.”

“You been busy? Fight bad guys?”

“Well, we met the prince of Doma. His name is Hien and he seems like a really nice man. I’m sure you’ll like him when you get to meet him. You remember Gosetsu, the big man with the weird sword?”

“Yeah! I ‘member him! He silly.”

“Well, he’s good friends with Hien. Hien decided that we needed more friends to help us fight the bad guys so we went through a test to prove that we are strong warriors.”

“Everybody know you best,” Noah scoffed. “Why prove?”

“Well, everybody back home knows,” she said slowly, trying to think of how to explain it to her son. “But over here, people don’t know. So, we have to prove it.”

“You prove it?”

“We did. Then we went out to meet many of the different tribes that live here on the Azim Steppe. The first tribe we met were the Mol. They are a small tribe filled with nice people. Hien was friends with them first and we have decided to fight on their part to help them become the leaders of the Steppe. The next tribe we meet were the Oronir. They believe that they are the children of Father Azim, the god of the sun. Right now, they are the leaders of the Steppe. They believe that it is their duty to protect and guide all of the different tribes. We then met the Dotharl who are fierce fighters and who believe that the bravest of their warriors will be reborn into their tribe. We also learned what the different tribes of the Xaela, the Auri, believe.” She sighed and told Noah the story of Azim and Nhaama. He listened happily, chirping the occasional question at her as she wove the tale for him. By the time she finished, she could tell that her son was growing tired.

“I think it’s almost night-night time, baby,” T’lorna whispered.

“Yeah. We ate supper. I need take bath,” he groused, “then go night-night. You go night-night, too, Mama?”

“I’m going to eat supper, then bathe, and then yes, I’ll be going night-night.”

“I go night-night with daddy doll. I tell him what you say ‘bout things. He like stories.”

“I’m sure he does, baby,” T’lorna said with a grin. “Your daddy loved to hear stories about people, too.”

“I like them. I like Daddy like that.”

“Yes, yes you are. Now, you be good for Papi and Mimi. I think that I’ll be coming to see you in a few more days.”

“‘Kay, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you, Noah. Sleep well.”

“Night-night, Mama,” he yawned. She listened as he padded over to his grandfather who plucked the linkpearl from his ear and turned it off. She switched her own linkpearl off and set it on her pack before rising to see if Cirina had brought food yet so she could eat, bathe, and then sleep.

“Only a few more days,” she whispered to herself as she settled in at the small table where bowls of stew sat steaming. “Only a few more days until I can see my son again. Gods, I hope that soon this will all be over and Noah and I can find a place to call home and live the rest of our lives in peace without worrying about the empire or primals.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna slept peacefully enough, the battles of the past few days giving her reason to sleep deeply and dreamlessly. The smell of breakfast roused her and she stumbled out of her blankets and over to the low-set table, scarcely aware of Lyse at all. She glanced out of the tied-back opening of the yurt and saw that it was still several hours until sunrise. Grunting, she dug into food and drank down several cups of strong tea before she felt awake enough to know what was going on around her.

“Good morning to you, too,” the Hyur woman muttered as T’lorna ignored her and dug into her meal. The Miqo’te drank down several cups of tea before she awakened sufficiently to be sociable.

“Did you say something earlier?” T’lorna asked, rubbing her hand over her eyes.

“You are clearly not a morning person.”

“You are clearly not someone who has been wakened before the crack of dawn by a little boy eager to get out and play,” T’lorna retorted. “But no, I’m not a morning person. I’m scarcely sentient before my third cup of tea.”

“I am coming to learn that,” Lyse said wryly. “I thought I overheard you talking to Noah last night.”

“I call him almost every evening,” T’lorna replied. “I miss him but I am glad he is having fun getting to know his father’s family. I try to let him know what I’ve been up to and to listen to his little adventures,” she grinned. “He climbed up a rather large tree yesterday, I take it, and had to be hauled down by his cousin G’arin. I think that Orbie was not best pleased at that. I have a feeling that Orbie is going to have a series of lectures for me on letting the young Prince of Allag risk his neck needlessly when I finally go to fetch them both.”

“Orbie? You mean that weird floating orb thing that followed both of you around on the boat?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” Lyse sighed. “Well, now that you’re awake, Cirina wants to see us all in the main yurt. She said we should report there as soon as we finished eating.”

“Let me go scrub my teeth and get dressed, first,” T’lorna sighed. “I have a feeling that we’re about to have a very busy day today.”

~*~*~*~

T’lorna felt refreshed as she strode into the main yurt where Cirina stood near her grandmother, clearly waiting on the four to join her. As soon as T’lorna approached her, the young Mol woman began to speak in grand tones.

“My friends,” she announced. “We are come to the final day of the Tsagaan Sar. To the Naadam. The battle will commence with the rising of the sun. The Gharl will scatter the soil, and the Steppe will be unbound. A great ovoo will erupt from the earth and call for a new khagan. All will converge upon the light, and the warrior who claims it will win the day. Precious little time remains. Pray use it to prepare for the battle.”

“Many of the young ones have never taken part in a Naadam,” Temulun added. “They are nervous. Perhaps you might favor them with some few words? It would do much to ease their fears…”

The four nodded, understanding that the request was more than just a question – it was an order. Whispering softly amongst themselves, they split up to reassure the warriors of the Mol who would be joining them in the battle to come. Hien had formulated a rough plan of battle that involved them rushing to the ovoo as soon as they knew where it was and then surrounding it, holding off the other tribes while T’lorna worked to claim it for the Mol. It was not the most sophisticated of plans but it would work, if they were able to move in quickly enough. This was one instance where their smaller numbers could work in their favor. They would let the Oronir and Dotharl fight each other while the Mol wove between them, taking the ovoo before the two stronger tribes were even aware that the challengers were there.

As the sky began to pearl with the first hints of a false dawn, they returned to check in with Temulun.

“Already, I sense a change in the people,” the leader of the Mol said softly. “Their hearts soothed, their resolve strengthened. This we owe to you. We are of the soil. The wind and the water. We are not conquerors. But we are yet the children of Nhaama – we are yet Xaela,” she sighed. “We were made for battle – to kill and be killed. We delight not in such things, but let no man doubt that they are in our nature. Flesh, blood, bone – that which was given, we offer unto the gods as tribute. This day we embrace death. Ours and our enemies’. So too must you embrace this truth, for this is who we are. Who you are become, as warriors of the Steppe. May the gods guide you to victory,” she prayed.

“All that remains is to wait for daybreak!” Cirina said after the others had taken a moment to absorb Temulun’s words. The five of them, soon joined by the other warriors of the Mol, moved through the Steppes, arriving at a spot that would allow them to scout out the region and spy the ovoo as soon as it began to glow.

Minutes passed. T’lorna reached into her belt pouch and withdrew the soul stone that would grant her the powers of a dark knight. Feeling the dark power rush through her as the armor settled around her body and her great sword fell into her hand, she scanned the horizon, waiting for the signal.

As the sun peaked over the distant horizon, T’lorna and the others spied a pillar of light rising up in the distance.

“It begins, Grandmother,” Cirina said to Temulun.

“I must say, it’s been a while…” Hien muttered. “Is everyone ready?”

“Hah hah hah!” Gosetsu laughed. “A samurai is always ready. You shall remember this soon enough once I have taken to the field.”

“So we take on all comers, and then it’s off to Doma!” Lyse cheered. “I can’t wait!”

“Thank you, my friends,” Cirina said warmly. “Upon the soil of one and all shall our deeds be inscribed. Grant us favor, O Mother of the Dusk,” she prayed, “and to victory guide the Mol!”

With that, all of the Mol warriors whistled, calling to their yol, and then mounted and rode hard for the glowing pillar of the ovoo. As soon as they reached the first creek barring their path, a group of Budugan fighters rushed them, forcing them to dismount and engage in combat.

They fought furiously, overcoming the Budugan and gaining the river. As one, they pressed onward and were soon confronted by the Oronir who sought to prevent them from reaching the ovoo. Cutting through them, Cirina, Hien, and T’lorna pressed on, running through the grassy hills of the Steppes to the central area – the ovoo. The Oronir and Budugan had already surrounded it and were fighting off any who sought to claim it. The Dotharl were pressing their own attack hard. T’lorna wove through the fighters and tried to lay claim to the ovoo but was quickly pulled back. The fighting was fierce. The ovoo would not be claimed easily.

Magnai appeared and grinned at T’lorna as one of his warriors tore her off the ovoo. “You came,” he laughed, “as I knew you would. For you too are a warrior of the Steppe. I salute you, traveler, and should be honored to face you alone… but the Dotharl thirst for blood and will suffer no duels.” As he spoke a group of Dotharl warriors rushed towards them. “Bear witness, Father Azim!” Magnai shouted. “The soil shall drink deep of blood this day!” As his warriors moved to block the Dotharl, Magnai and his hand-picked fighters engaged T’lorna. She, Hien, and Lyse were hard-pressed to push them back. They began to fight more strategically, engaging those who attacked them directly, only breaking off to stop one of the Oronir who tried to claim the ovoo. They ignored any groups who were fighting each other, instead choosing to focus their attacks on the few Oronir or Dotharl who engaged them directly or who tried to lay claim to the ovoo. In time, Sadu joined the fight as well and it became a three-way battle to keep both the Dotharl and the Oronir away from the ovoo while seeking out their own chance to claim it for the Mol.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Mol fighters were encouraged as they held off the Oronir and the Dotharl, distracting them or yanking them back whenever one of them tried to claim the ovoo. Eventually, Magnai himself was defeated. Then Sadu fell to the furious attacks that the three Mol fighters levied against her. The way clear, T’lorna moved over and began to focus her attention on claiming the ovoo while Hien, Lyse, and Cirina beat back any who would stop T’lorna.

The Miqo’te felt the very ground shift beneath her as the ovoo responded to her thoughts and prayers. The light flashed and then vanished and the fighting slowly ground to a halt.

“The Steppe has spoken!?” Sadu panted in disbelief. “Then the khagan is…”

“We have won…” Cirina hissed. “The Mol have won! The Dawn Throne is ours!”

“We did it…” Hien cheered. “And you, my friend… you… you were magnificent. Magnificent… and, uh… not a little terrifying.”

“What a strange tale this is become,” Sadu grumped. “To think I suffered them to live…”

“On your guard, udgan,” Magnai warned. “The wind warns of men in iron.”

As one, the warriors of the Steppe turned to watch Garlean forces approaching. Grynewaht led them and he laughed when he spied T’lorna.

“I thought I’d find you here, Eorzean!” he shouted. “Dearest of all my enemies! Today’s the day I finally get to kill you! And then they’ll give me a shiny medal, and my choice of posting: Bloody perfect, it is! Well, go on then!” he ordered the men following him. “Kill her! Kill ‘em all!”

“Dearest of all his enemies, eh?” Hien muttered to T’lorna. “Congratulations.” He walked forward, standing between the Garleans and the warriors of the Steppe freshly come out of the Naadam. “Hearken to me, honored warriors of the Steppe!” Hien said, turning to face the Xaela. “Our enemies intrude upon this sacred ground! Have you yet the strength to oppose them!?”

“You forget to whom you speak, Doman,” Sadu said as she crossed her arms under her breasts. “We are the undying ones. We are Dotharl.”

“If this be the will of the Mol and their khagan, so be it,” Magnai replied. “The Sun shall abide by the law of the Steppe.”

“Warriors of the Steppe – with me!” T’lorna shouted as she hefted her blade and rushed the imperials.

The Xaela of the Steppe fought with ferocity while T’lorna focused her attacks on Grynewaht. The Oronir focused on the imperial soldiers while the Dotharl and Mol honed in on the war machines.

“Drive the Ironmen from our lands!” Cirina ordered. “The khagan wills it!”

“Such fortuitous timing that you have to face a Steppe united!” Hien laughed at the imperials who fell before his blade.

“Now this is more like it!” Lyse laughed. “All the imperials I can punch!”

“That’s the spirit!” T’lorna heard Hien shout. “Let’s not let her put ups to shame!”

“Never did the thought cross my mind, my lord!” Gosetsu replied.

“Hold fast, warriors of the Steppe!” Cirina called out as Grynewaht collapsed beneath T’lorna’s assault. The Miqo’te then turned her attention to helping the others to bring down the few imperial soldiers remaining. “We can defeat them!”

“Let naught be left in our wake!” Sadu encouraged her tribesmen. With that, she summoned the great stones that embued her attacks with great power while acting as shields that protected her from any attack.

“I don’t like the looks of those giant stone thingies!” Grynewaht roared. “Get rid of them – now!”

“Oh, if I must…” Magnai grumbled as he moved to defend Sadu. “The Sun claims these Ironmen!”

“Aid the khatun!” Hien ordered the Mol following him. “She must finish her spell!”

T’lorna and the others beat back any imperials who threatened the great stone guardians Sadu had summoned. After several long minutes of furious combat, Sadu finally unleashed her spell, destroying the Garlean forces utterly.

“But… but…” Grynewaht protested. “I had you!” He could not seem to believe he had been defeated. He shoved himself to his feet and stared at T’lorna in disbelief. “Impossible! She was there for the taking! What do I have to do!?” he demanded of himself as he found himself facing the united might of the Steppes. “I need more men… more weapons… more power!” With an anguished roar, Grynewaht turned on his heels and ran back towards the safety of the imperial holdings.

“As if we’d lose to the likes of him!” Lyse snorted. “And we’re only gonna get stronger. Stronger and stronger until we’re strong enough to take back everything they stole!”

The warriors of the Steppe watched as the Garleans fled into the distance. When the last of them was well out of sight, Hien turned to Cirina.

“I have kept my promise, Cirina,” he said softly. “They are yours to command.”

“Oh!” Cirina said in surprise as Hien’s words sank in. “Yes, of course!” She walked to stand in front of Magnai and Sadu and then spoke directly to them, her tone clear and unwavering and her gaze filled with confidence. “Brothers and sisters of the Steppe!” she said loudly. “The Naadam is ended, and we Mol now claim the Dawn Throne. No demands shall we make of you save these: heed our comrades’ words, and honor the law of the Steppe!”

Magnai and Sadu both folded their arms over their chests before nodding reluctantly. Then Hien turned to speak.

“Before I fought for the Mol,” he said, “I fought for my homeland – for Doma…”

“To Doma would you have us go, to fight your war and win your freedom?” Sadu asked. “Very well,” she said, uncrossing her arms. “The battlefield matters not, nor else the enemy. In battle do our souls burn bright.” She cast a contemptuous gaze over her shoulder at Magnai and continued. “And better the Mol’s law than that of the Sun. Arrogant and foolhardy were their pronouncements. Already you and yours show better sense.”

“The Sun shall answer your call, Doman,” Magnai said after shooting a glare at Sadu. “Wild as the wind the udgan and her brood may be, but they will deliver you naught. We will deliver you your kingdom.”

“Weak and few as we are,” Cirina said, “the Mol will fight for Doma too. If you will have us.”

“Well then!” Gosetsu muttered. “I believe naught remains but to return to Doma at the head of a Xaela army, my lord! I cannot wait to see the look on Yugiri’s face…”

“Nor I,” Hien said before turning to regard the warriors sworn to his aid. “We shall depart as soon as our forces are assembled and rejoin our comrades. And then, my friends, we shall bring freedom to the people of Doma!”

The warriors of the Steppe roared their agreement. They stood together, speaking a while longer, settling on when and where the Mol would live as they held the loyalty of the Steppes. The Oronir were loathe to relinquish their claim on the settlement of the Dawn Throne and the Mol were also loathe to try to claim such a mighty holding. Instead, it was decided that the Mol would remain in Mol Iloh and the Oronir would continue to live in the Dawn Throne. However, though they might hold the settlement, the Oronir held it only at the pleasure of the Mol. Once the discussions began to wind down and the warriors of the various tribes made their way home, T’lorna walked over to speak with Hien.

“Your imperial friend has truly impeccable timing,” he laughed. “Had he come even a few moments earlier, he might actually have stood a chance. In any event, that is _two_ battles won in a single day. Which, by my reckoning, gives us twice the cause to celebrate! But first, I pray you grant me a moment to express my gratitude. Thanks to you, we are one step closer to freeing my homeland from the tyranny of the Empire. I am in your debt. Of course… if all goes to plan, this is like to be but the first of many such debts,” he laughed. “Yet I promise to endure my insolvency with a smile, out of gratitude to the kami for seeing fit to send you hither.”

~*~*~*~

After paying their final respects and making their last farewells to the various tribes of Xaela spread throughout the Azim Steppe, Hien, T’lorna, Lyse, and Gosetsu were led south to a passage that would take them directly back to Doma. Cirina walked them there, stopping to speak with Sadu about undoing the magical barriers that the Dotharl had erected to keep Domans and Garleans from using the passage to infest the Steppe during the Doman Rebellion.

“May you ever walk in crimson,” Cirina said as she prepared to depart, making her way back to Mol Iloh while the others continued on into Doma. “For in crimson there is life. There is liberation.”

“Thank you for your prayers, Cirina,” Hien replied. “We shall remember them.”

“Until we meet again!” she said as she turned and walked back to the north, leaving the four of them to make their way through the cavernous passage that would take them back to Doma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did anyone else watch the showcase? I'm really excited about the next expansion and can't wait for this fall to get here. I have already told my boss to expect me to suffer from a few weeks of temporary death when it drops. ;)


	59. The Battle for Doma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we see the fall of Doma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square Enix's universe.

The passage through the hills was not long or onerous and, within less than a bell’s passing, they were making their way through the untamed lands of Yanxia back to the House of the Fierce. As they stepped through the rocky paths that twisted beneath the ground to the secret headquarters of the Doman resistance movement, Hien paused to take in the sight.

“Here we are!” he sighed to himself. “I wonder if they all are gathered inside, waiting… perhaps expecting a speech or some such… Well! No matter! I shall have to do what I shall have to do!” With a nod to himself, he stepped through and walked into the House of the Firece, T’lorna and Lyse flanking him. As soon as he was inside, he gazed around at those gathered therein and began to speak.

“Brothers and sisters, pray for me my absence. It has been far too long.”

“Lord Hien!” Yugiri said with excitement. She knelt before him and continued to speak. “Gosetsu told us of your trials and tribulations on the Steppe. Would that I had been present to witness your victory, my lord.”

“Our victory, Yugiri,” he corrected her mildly, “owed as much to each of my stalwart comrades as it did to me. Now, rise – I will not suffer this excess of formality any longer.” Yugiri rose to her feet and Hien looked behind her to the Elezen twins. “Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur, I presume?” he asked. “I am told we owe you much. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lord Hien,” Alphinaud said as he bowed. “Though we were born and raise a world apart, our values are one and the same: freedom, justice, liberty. Each of which Doma shall soon enjoy once more.”

“Hopefully,” Alisaie said more cautiously. “I understand you have brought an army?”

“Indeed,” Hien agreed. “The Xaela tribes of the Azim Steppe have pledged their military might to the cause.”

“Good,” Alisaie said with relief. “We, meanwhile, have secured the support of the Confederacy, and a not insignificant number of your countrymen. The Blue Kojin, too, have expressed a willingness to join the fight – provided you agree to certain trade agreements following the liberation of Doma.”

“The shinobi will render what aid they can,” Yugiri promised. “However, Sui-no-Sato refused to answer our call.”

“No matter,” Hien replied. “What forces we have amassed far exceed my original expectations. You have my thanks.”

“You should know that Zenos departed Doma not longer after you left to find Lord Hien,” Alphinaud said to T’lorna. “We know not the reason why, but it would seem he was eager to return to Gyr Abania.”

“What?” Lyse gasped. “Have you heard anything from the Resistance? There hasn’t been another attack, has there?”

“Tataru assures me they are quite well,” he reassured the Hyur woman. “You need not worry. If anything, this turn of events would seem to be to our advantage.”

“But there the good news ends,” Alisaie added. “Yotsuyu retains her position as acting viceroy, and we have reports that the garrison at Doma Castle is preparing for a massive operation. We suspect that the Empire’s attempt to eliminate you on the Steppe may have been a prelude to a larger effort to purge the remaining pockets of resistance within Doma.”

“The hour of reckoning is upon us,” Gosetsu said firmly.

“Then victory will soon be ours,” T’lorna replied.

“Hah hah hah!” Hien laughed. “The khagan has spoken! And I for one am not inclined to argue. In this place, in this moment, I call upon you all! Twenty-five years of oppression, of tyranny, of shame – it ends with us! We will prevail!” he promised his followers.

~*~*~*~

The group moved further into the House of the Firece, taking seats at a table and enjoying a brief respite. Mugs of tea were passed around and T’lorna found herself glad of the break. She had been going non-stop since Cirina had roused them for the Naadam just a half-day ago. Now, she felt as if she could sink into a bed and sleep for several days. However, there was an electric thrill in the air that kept her energized. After several more moments of desultory conversation, Alphinaud cleared his throat and looked her directly in the eyes.

“I imagine you are eager to hear the particulars of our plan,” he said, alluding to the plan to retake Doma Castle and drive out the remnants of the Imperial government housed within. “First, Lyse and the Doman irregulars will conduct a series of raids against imperial targets throughout the surrounding area, with the aim of drawing the garrison’s attention. Shortly thereafter, our Xaela allies will launch a surprise attack on the castle’s airborne defenses. In this way, we will prevent the enemy’s airships from rendering support, and cut off one means of escape. Alisaie and I, together with the shinobi, will exploit the ensuing chaos to infiltrate the Moon Gates and disable the magitek field generators. Once the barrier is down, we will be free to cross the One River and reach Doma Castle. It is at this point that we must turn to our Confederate and Kojin allies. They will commence to bombard the castle with cannon fire, while sailing west towards the Doman Enclave.”

“Wait, the enclave?” Lyse asked, confused. “Why would you want them to sail away from the castle?”

“Because the enclave is home to countless civilians,” Alphinaud explained. “Once pressed, the imperials may well think to take them hostage, and I would fain forestall any such attempt. After we have secured the enclave, we may lay siege to Doma Castle directly. The main strength of the Doman Liberation Front, under Lord Hien’s command, shall be committed to this endeavor, as will you and your redoubtable allies,” Alpinaud finished, his gaze on T’lorna. “The rest is simple. We scour the castle for the viceroy, we find her, and we subdue her. Without their leader, what remains of the imperials’ morale will crumble, and they will surrender or attempt to flee. And Doma will be free. Your thoughts, Lord Hien?” he asked. “If any points were unclear or gave you cause for concern, I should be glad to go over them with you.”

“Nay, ‘tis a fine plan,” Hien replied. “You have a talent for this, that much is plain. We shall carry out Alphinaud’s plan to the letter. Time is of the essence, as you know, so let us each see to our respective preparations. Carry on!” With that, he turned to T’lorna and nodded at her. “There is no shortage of tasks which must needs be completed before we can launch our attack. If you have a moment, perhaps you could lend a hand?”

“I should be happy to do whatever is required,” T’lorna said brightly.

~*~*~*~

“Had I known that ‘whatever is required’ would involve chasing down parcel carriers in Kugane for most of a day, I might have been more specific,” T’lorna sighed as she knuckled her back and studied the parcel in front of her. She had, at least, been able to stop by the house owned by the Alliance of Kings free company who comprised her allies in this part of the world. She had gathered in several allies to help her with her part of capturing Doma Castle. Though they were somewhat skeptical, they were more than willing to accept the bounty offered for helping the Scions and the Doman Liberation Front. That done, she led them back to Yanxia and the House of the Fierce where Alphinaud was waiting for the parcel Cid had sent and T’lorna had hunted down.

“Our plans proceed apace,” Alphinaud said brightly. “Do you have the documents?”

“Yes. But don’t blame me if they smell like perfume,” she growled as she handed them over.

“Excellent! This looks to be exactly what we need. Assuming our shinobi escort can see us safely inside the Moon Gates, I should have no trouble deactivating the barrier. Good, good – that is one less thing to worry about,” he sighed. “Should you wish for further employment, mayhap you could speak with Alisaie?” he asked, his concern for his sister clear. “I believe she was planning to search the surrounding area for imperial patrols. If you go now, you may be able to catch her before she departs.”

T’lorna moved quickly, catching the Elezen woman as she was about to depart. “Alphinaud told you about my plans?” Alisaie asked “And you wish to come with me? Well, far be it from me to refuse you. If truth be told, I’m not entirely sure what I expect to find. In the wake of your failed assassination attempt, the imperials demonstrated uncharacteristic restraint.” T’lorna flushed at that. She knew as well as anyone else that her foolhardy attempt to kill Zenos could have cost the Doman people much. “There were no public executions, and not a single village was put to the torch. But, as I mentioned earlier, our latest intelligence does suggest a purge is imminent. For all we know, they could be out in the field even as we speak, surveilling their targets and making plans. If so, we need to put a stop to it. Let us begin our search in the north,” she suggested.

Together, they left the House of the Fierce and moved through the Valley of the Fallen Rainbow. They marveled at the various colored pools as they walked through the terraces. They stopped at one vantage point and looked out, seeing nothing. The second vantage point was likewise barren. It wasn’t until they reached the road that led out of the valley and spied a tiger’s corpse that they had any hint of an imperial presence nearby.

“Not exactly the enemy I was worried about,” Alisaie sighed. “Damn it all, I can’t just leave the carcass lying in the middle of the road.”

“You’ve gotten stronger,” T’lorna observed.

“Next to you, I feel like a child playing at swords and sorcery,” Alisaie muttered. “Though mayhap it suits me better than books. I owe much to a Miqo’te I met on my travels. He was a master of these techniques, and kindly agreed to teach me the fundamentals. But I never could warm to common rapiers. I vastly preferred using a blade of my own creation, despite the toll it took on me. Urianger’s gift was a godsend, to be honest. Anyway, we’re falling behind. We should split up, and try to recoup some lost time,” she sighed. “We’ve heard rumors of imperial soldiers skulking about disguised as villagers. One was supposedly spotting near the Ribbons, to the south of here. Go and see if there’s anything out of the ordinary.”

T’lorna nodded and took the path that wound up through the terraced hills to the south. As she followed the trail, she saw several people talking just a bit ahead. They seemed to be arguing about something though, with the light breeze wafting from her to them, she could not make out their words.

“Oh… hello there, young lady” the elder among them said when he saw T’lorna approaching. “My associates and I are in search of fertile soil for farming, and this land caught our eye,” he explained nervously.

T’lorna glanced doubtfully at the ground around them. It was rocky with thin soil. Shallow-rooted grasses were the only thing that kept the soil from eroding away in the wind or the rain.

“That’s unlikely,” she muttered.

“You doubt my words?” the man said indignantly. “You suspect we have some other purpose in coming here? How vexing it is to be questioned in this manner,” he sighed. Gesturing to the two other men with him, he pointed at T’lorna. “Very well. She desires the truth, and she shall have it. Deal with her!” With that, he ran off, leaving the two imperials to deal with the Miqo’te. T’lorna made short work of them – neither was on par with Zenos – and then hurried back to the road where she saw Alisaie standing watch over the fleeing elder, her sword hovering over his head.

“I saw them attack you, while this one fled,” Alisaie explained. “Since you seemed to have everything in hand, I decided to capture him. An imperial, I presume?”

“It would seem so,” T’lorna said with a nod.

“I knew it would come to this…” the elderly man said. “But at the hands of a _Westerner_? A Doman would at least know the rites… You think you understand, but you do not,” he muttered. “She will burn it all before she surrenders. She will never kneel again. Nor should she…” he turned his head and glared at T’lorna. She felt the Echo washing over her as the man rose and pulled back his fist to punch her.

“T’lorna!” Alisaie shouted as the vision washed over her.

She watched as the man, in the vision a young man, spoke to a Doman woman about her son, Ashai. A girl named Yotsuyu approached her and the soldier’s look became one of avidity. T’lorna watched in horror as the girl’s aunt traded her to the soldier for nothing.

 _If this is a vision of Yotsuyu’s past_ , T’lorna thought to herself, _then it is little wonder she turned out to be the way that she is now. To be treated as a burden by her own family, to watch her cousin given everything he desired, and then to be sold like a sack of grain? No wonder she bears little love for her own people and clings to the independence and power that the Empire has given her._

“What happened?” she heard Alisaie ask as the vision cleared. “We were talking, and then all of a sudden you were somewhere else. Did one of those soldiers hit you on the head or something?” T’lorna shook her head. It was always difficult to explain how the Echo worked to one who did not possess it. “Well, if you say so…” Alisaie said doubtfully as she stood over the prone, unconscious form of the soldier. “We should go and tell the others what happened here.”

With that, they returned to report in at the House of the Fierce.

~*~*~*~

After giving their report at the House of the Fierce and then setting out to help Lyse equip and arm the villagers of Namai, T’lorna found herself on the road south towards Doma in search of Hien. The prince had left word for her to meet him near Monzen in an effort to find weapons to give the villagers. She found him standing beneath a large tree looking out over the burnt-out settlement that had once been a prosperous town.

“Monzen was home to many great and powerful families,” he said softly. “Men of honor – samurai. Once…” he sighed. “Great swathes were razed, and people put to the sword. What little remains stands as a testament to what was and what will never be again. Come,” he gestured. “I would take a closer look.”

Together they walked into the settlement. The stone walls and buildings had held up surprisingly well for all that the town was abandoned. Hien stopped at a crossroads near the waterfront as he stared at the mechanized constructs that patrolled the region. “No sentries,” he sighed, “at least of the living sort. Those shambling suits of armor have the run of the place. To think this was once a bustling street, so full of life… a river of people, with a current all its own. But even then, the imperials walked among us. Sometimes openly, sometimes discreetly, but we were always ware of their presence,” he said. “And we… we were complicit. He did what he had to do to preserve the peace,” Hien said more to himself than to T’lorna. “To keep our people safe. But at what cost…” He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Forgive me, this is neither the time nor the place for such dark musings! Though they did serve to remind me of the barracks which once stood to the west of here… where there may yet be weapons for our comrades to use.”

They moved through the ruins, looking for anything of use. T’lorna heard Hien say something about going to the river but she continued her search, finding only a single katana still sheathed. She took it up and looked around, spying Hien’s silhouette in the distance near the waterfront. She carried the blade to him and presented it to him for his inspection.

“Still sheathed in its scabbard…” he muttered as he studied it, “though even shielded from the elements, it will need to be cleaned and oiled…” He studied the blade further, his eyes widening with recognition. “I recognize the crest,” he explained. “It belonged to the son of a samurai I trained with when I was young. He never even had a chance to draw it.” With a sigh, he turned and looked over the water at the castle. “There she is. Doma Castle. My home. They let us keep her for a time, before gradually moving their forces across from Fluminis. Now her every court and corridor belongs to Yotsuyu. Though Father spent much of his time there, I did not. I may only have visited him there on half a dozen occasions, if that. I cannot remember… But I remember the view from the keep. Doma seemed much smaller from there. Like you could hold it in your hands,” he sighed. “Well, Monzen at least. Doma is so much more than that. There, beyond the Moon Gates, unto the shores of the Ruby Sea, and here, in the places that no man can see or touch or take from you… We carry her with us, wheresoever we go. Not the land or the soil… but the story. And what is life if not a story? The story of our journey from dawn to dusk, day after day after day. The story of our mothers and our fathers, our families and our friends, our peoples and our nations. I think a part of me understood that, when I looked out from the keep. Hien, son of Kaien. Another caretaker of the story of Doma. It’s a fine castle, truly, with an even finer view. But in the end… In… in the end…” A sudden realization seemed to wash over him. “Kami strike me down, how could I be so blind! We must return to the House of the Fierce at once! I have had what can only be described as a revelation. Ours is an excellent plan, but not so excellent that it cannot be improved – and I know how,” he said confidently.

~*~*~*~

A short while later, the group gathered in the House of the Fierce with Soroban, the Blue Kojin emissary, joining them. Hien stood before them, looking both confident and uncertain. T’lorna grinned. For a moment, Hien reminded her of Noah when he had demanded the attention of the Scions and finally had it but was uncertain how to start.

“If, uh, you might humor me…” Hien said haltingly. “Thank you for coming, Soroban,” he said, speaking directly to the Kojin. “Doubtless you have already been informed of our plans and the role we would have your people play. However, I seek your counsel as a Kojin of the Blue. Be it by spell or siegecraft, could your forces destroy the underwater foundations of Doma Castle’s outer wall?” he asked.

“Hmm…” Soroban mused. “Explosives, coupled with a few incantations… Yes, that might produce sufficient force. Such a thing could indeed be done.”

“Then I wish to revise the plan,” Hien said boldly. “Instead of assisting the Confederacy in securing the enclave, I would have the Kojin advance upstream, beneath the water, and breach a segment of the outer wall. I mean to flood Doma Castle.”

That statement sent a wave of shock through the Scions and Domans gathered together.

“My lord,” Gosetsu protested, “the castle is a sacred symbol – the very heart of our nation! To destroy it is unthinkable, unconscionable – you cannot do this!”

“I can and I will if it improves our chances,” Hien countered. “By flooding the castle we remove the better part of their forces from the field and force Yotsuyu to retreat to the highest levels of the keep. Tell me that is not a worthwhile trade.”

“But, my lord…” Gosetsu stammered, “that castle was entrusted to you by your father, and his father before him. I say to you again: it is the heart of our nation.”

“Stone walls do not a nation make, my friend,” Hien argued. “Her people do. And as long as we yet live, we can rebuild. So let us only think of this battle. Of victory here and now. For without that, we have no future.”

Gosetsu closed his eyes and nodded slowly, reluctantly, in acquiescence.

“I see that you are resolved, Lord Hien,” Alphinaud said, “and I would not presume to gainsay your decision.”

“I will inform the elder of your revised stratagem,” Soroban promised, “and instruct our sappers to make ready.”

“Our preparations are all but complete,” Hien said grandly. “Once we receive word from our Kojin allies, we shall set our plans in motion. We shall fight, and we shall prevail.”

With that, each of them moved off to take care of their own last-minute business. As she spoke with Alphinaud and learned that the Kojin sappers would be in place on the morrow, T’lorna decided to take what time she could to get some rest before the battle to come. As she walked through the House of the Fierce, she spied Lyse. The Hyur woman walked up to her and shrugged.

“You’re awake,” she said. “I was just, um… Well, the threw me out, actually. Told me I need to get some sleep, ready for the big day.” She gazed up through the hole in the hillside that opened to the sky high above. “Not long now, eh? I’m nervous, of course,” Lyse confessed, “but I also feel like… like I didn’t know where I was going, but maybe, finally… Something’s gonna change, you know? Really, really change. And when the dust has settled, we’ll see what we’ve won… and what we’ve lost… I’m going to give it my all tomorrow. Everything I’ve seen and felt… I won’t let it be for nothing. Right. Off to bed! Don’t want to overdo it – and neither should you. Oh, but before you sleep, you should look in on Alphinaud and Alisaie. Quietly, of course,” Lyse suggested. “And if you call him, tell Noah Auntie Lyse said ‘hi!’” With that, Lyse headed off to the sleeping chambers while T’lorna walked back in to see how the Elezen twins were fairing.

She saw them leaning against each other at a table, sound asleep. Part of her wanted to lift them up and carry them to bed while another part of her was just amused at how cute they looked. Like a pair of young kittens curled around each other in sleep.

“Ho, another restless soul,” she heard Hien say quietly. “Come, come – raise a glass to freedom,” he offered. T’lorna walked over to their table and joined them. Gosetsu looked down at her and spoke.

“Mmm, good, good,” he said as he quaffed his drink. “I should be interested to know her thoughts on the matter!”

“That’s enough, Gosetsu. You’ll not convince anyone with your drunken ramblings,” Hien grimaced. “We’ve talked about this. All of us. We are flooding the castle tomorrow, and that’s the end of it.”

“I know, I know!” Gosetsu sighed. “I accepted your decision, and I do not intend to go back on my word. Nevertheless, as the battle draws near, I cannot help but recall our many travails, and it fair compels me to speak… In all my time serving as a leader of men, there are two failures which haunt me to this day,” he sighed. “The first, our defeat at the hands of the Empire twenty-five years past, and the subsequent imprisonment of your father. Long did I consider offering up my life in atonement, until Lord Kaien, allowed at last to receive visitors, called for me of all people… ‘For my unborn child,’” Gosetsu quoted, “he said, ‘for my dearest Shun – live!’” He took a deep breath and continued. “My second failure, of course, was the betrayal of that selfsame command, when in the rebellion I failed to protect not only Lord Kaien, but Lord Hien too… That I yet live, having known such disgrace, is an affront to the kami themselves… Yet you,” he sighed, “all of you… saw fit to grant this shameful creature, this failure, another chance… to serve a greater purpose… Thank you… for pitying an old fool…”

“Now, now,” Hien said, “it is far too soon for that. Save your tears for the morrow. You may be sure we will have ample cause to shed them, be they for joy or despair. Bah!” he snorted. “Even that sounds morose. We who yet walk the path should not think too much on the destination. When the hour arrives, we shall welcome what comes with open arms.” With that, he turned to T’lorna. “He is right about one thing, though – we have you and yours to thank for this chance. All debts will be repaid. On that you have my word. But first, we must live past tomorrow, no?” Then, with a laugh, he looked over his shoulder. “If you’ve no intention of sleeping, Yugiri, you may as well join us.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Yugiri said as she stepped out of the shadows. “I did not mean to, uh… If that is your will…” The Xaela rushed over to join them.

For the next hour, the four talked and joked, swapping stories and hopes for the future. Finally, T’lorna begged off, knowing that it was too late to call her son for the night, and went to sleep. As she drifted off, she wondered idly what Raha would think about their plans.

~*~*~*~

Hien was bright-eyed the next morning when T’lorna approached him. “There she is. I trust you are none the worse for wear after last night,” he grinned. “We received confirmation from the Kojin not long ago. Their sappers stand at the ready and await our signal. Let us not keep them and the others waiting. Gather your things – we depart at once. Our scouts report no change in the imperials’ disposition, but I would leave nothing to chance. We must act quickly, lest we lose the element of surprise.”

They moved quickly, each taking up their pre-arranged positions. Once they were in position, they communicated via linkpearl. T’lorna, Hien, Gosetsu, and Yugiri made their way to the waterfront across from Doma Castle while Lyse led the villagers to attack the castrum. The Xaela, led by their khatun, swooped in on their yols, sweeping across the waters to launch their attack on the castle. Alphinaud made his way to the Moon Gate and soon had disabled the magitek field keeping the Confederacy’s boats from entering the bay. As they watched the boats deliver volley after volley of cannonfire, one of the walls of the castle collapsed under the onslaught.

“The wall is breached!” Yugiri said. “The Kojin, too, will not be outdone!”

“Our allies have set the stage,” Hien said. “Now we must take the castle. With me!”

Together they made their way across the river and into the enclave, fighting their way through the magitek devices and Garlean soldiers who sought to bar their path. Through the broad palace roadways and the flooded streets they fought, bringing down the Garlean devices left to guard the keep, leaving them in burning heaps of twisted metal. At last, they won through to the palace itself, forcing open the great wooden doors and fighting their way through the groups of soldiers gathered inside as they climbed to the upper levels of the castle, seeking out the viceroy for capture.

Finally, they won through to the Hall of the Scarlet Swallow where they expected to find Yotsuyu with the last of her guards. Instead, they were confronted by her beast, Grynewaht. The man had been modified, his body covered with thick armor and massive guns welded to his shoulders and arms. He seemed delighted to be facing the Warrior of Light again. He carried a great sword with spinning teeth on its edges which he used to great affect. As they fought, he shouted like a snarling beast. Again and again he launched bombs, showered the company with bullets that they were hard-pressed to duck to avoid, and swung his massive blade at them. It took time, but the four were eventually able to wear him down. The weight of his weapons and the recoil they must have played their part in weakening the man until, at last, he stumbled and fell flat on his face, dead.

T’lorna and the others wasted no time on him. They rushed past him and up the final set of stairs to the topmost chamber. Yotsuyu stood there, alone, her pistol in her hand. She aimed it at Hien. The prince of Doma moved quickly, his blade flashing, smacking the pistol from her hand as he grabbed her and flung her down so that she fell to her hands and knees. He stood over her, the blade of his sword poised to take the head from her shoulders if necessary.

“Have you aught to say for yourself!?” he demanded angrily. “For what you have done to our people – your people?”

“My people, he says,” Yotsuyu snarled, her face hidden by her hair. “The precious lordling beloved by all come to confront the wicked witch. My parents thought me no better. They worked me from dawn to dusk, like an ox or an ass or some other beast of burden. Until, that is, my brother spied a chance to transform the family fortunes. And so I was married to a vicious old drunk who beat me as he pleased, and when I pleaded for help, I was told to grin and bear it. For the family. For him. For everyone’s sake. They pretended not to notice, but they knew. They knew,” she hissed. “What did it matter? I was nothing to them – less than nothing! I wasn’t of their flesh, I wasn’t a fellow Doman, I wasn’t even a person. I might just as well have been dead!” She pushed herself up, sitting, one hand on the ground to support her. She raised her face and a soft smile graced her lips. “And then my husband passed away one day. And so I was sold off yet again, to pay his debts. But this time, this time, I found a way to live for myself. To survive. As a spay for the Empire. Oh, those were the days, when the scales first fell from my eyes. No longer would I be a slave to my parents or my husband or the pleasure house. I would be free… and receive due compensation.” She lifted her gaze to regard Hien. “That would be enough, I thought… until I saw a Doman in the road, beaten and broken, and my heart… my heart skipped a beat… Lying at my feet, groaning in agony, sobbing in despair. Powerless, helpless, hopeless! A vision forever seared into my soul…” She chuckled darkly at the memory and then glared at the Doman prince. “There was nothing I would not do to feel that joy again! To bed this cruel, twisted world to my whims! Now, having borne witness to my life’s work, have you aught to say to me?” she demanded.

Before Hien could reply, the palace shook anew with a fresh set of bombings. Yotsuyu took the shaking in stride and grinned. “‘Twas kind of you to lend me your ear, my lord. But now it is time for us to conclude our little tête-à-tête with a final game of chance… Who shall stand, and who shall fall? Let the die be cast.”

“This was her plan from the first,” Yugiri muttered, “to bring the keep down on our heads!”

For just an instant, Hien took his eyes off Yotsuyu to look at Yugiri. Yotsuyu moved like a striking snake, grabbing up her pistol and firing it at the black-haired Doman. Hien struck, cutting the bullet in half and then struck again, cutting Yotsuyu down.

“I will remember your words,” he promised her as he sheathed his blade. “We must flee! Order our forces to withdraw!”

Before they could move, however, the ceiling collapsed. T’lorna threw her arms over her head. She thought of her son, of Noah, and wondered how he would take the news that Mama would never come home to him again. She prayed that his grandparents would raise him well. Tears leaked down her face at the thought of not getting to see him grow up. She choked back a sob and prayed that the end, when it came, would come quickly. After another moment passed and she realized she had not been struck by anything, T’lorna ventured to open her eyes. She coughed at the dust in the air and rubbed her eyes as they watered from it. Glancing over, she saw Gosetsu, bent nearly in half, holding up the ceiling to keep it from falling down on them. Hien and Yugiri were likewise in awe at the sight of the samurai struggling to keep it aloft.

“Go, my lord,” Gosetsu panted, “while you still can. I cannot hold this forever.”

“No!” Yugiri protested. “We will not leave you behind!”

“Do your duty,” Gosetsu growled. “Deliver Lord Hien and the others to safety. Now, forthwith! I shall manage on my own.”

Before Yugiri could argue further, two shots rang out. Gosetsu staggered, falling to his knees. Blood spurted from his side and he gasped, blowing out foaming, bloody spittle.

“Gosetsu!” Yugiri screamed. They glanced over to see Yotsuyu, pinned by the falling debris, struggling to heave herself up. Her eyes shone with madness as she laughed, dropping the smoking pistol to the floor.

“No… no one leaves… Not you or anyone else…” she wheezed.

“‘Tis naught this old frame cannot bear!” Gosetsu roared. “Go now, all of you! The day is won! And the morrow beckons!”

T’lorna closed her eyes, grateful at the sacrifice the samurai was making. The sacrifice that would allow her to see her own son grow to manhood. “This isn’t over,” she promised as she lifted her hand and sent healing energies to fortify the man.

“Do not despair, my friend,” Gosetsu said. “Never before have I felt so alive. My eyes unclouded, my purpose clear. This is right.”

“Gosetsu,” Hien sighed. “You never failed us. Not once. You served my father faithfully, and I am a better man for your guidance. And the Doma we build together shall be better for it too! Be proud, my friend. Be proud.”

“I am, Shun. More than you know,” Gosetsu groaned as he struggled to keep holding up the ceiling.

With that, the three left, hurrying towards the balcony where they could leap out and ride their yols to safety. As they reached the open air, T’lorna turned, thinking she heard Gosetsu speaking.

“You cast the die,” she thought he said. “Gambling was never my vice.”

Then more explosions came and debris fell, entombing the samurai and the once-viceroy. From a distance, on the backs of their yols, Hien and the others watched as the tower caved in on itself, tumbling into the waters of the One River. With a final thought for the fallen, they made their way back to safety.

~*~*~*~

Hien spent the night staring at the fallen tower. The next morning, the forces of Doma arrived with Lyse, Alphinaud, and Alisaie. They gathered around Hien, kneeling to do him homage. The prince of Doma stared out over them as if he had no clue why they were there.

“Some few words of encouragement would not go amiss, my lord,” Yugiri whispered to him.

“Um… Right! Uh, yes. O-of course…” he stammered as he gathered his thoughts.

“Off you trot, then,” T’lorna quipped.

“Ummm… Er, um… right, um right! Off – off I go!” Hien mumbled. He walked through the ranks of citizens who were on their knees, bent in half, their heads nearly touching the ground. Walking up to the doors of the Kienkan, he stood in front of them and addressed those gathered to hear him. “We are a sorry lot, are we not,” he began sadly. “Tired, dirty, stinking of blood and sweat and ash. A people pushed to the point of breaking.” He turned his face to the sky and stood silent for a long moment. “And yet we won,” he whispered. “The perseverance to endure decades of oppression. The will to carry on the legacy of those we have lost. These were the bonds that held us together and gave us the strength to reclaim our home. After twenty-five hard years, the shadow of the Empire no longer darkens these lands, and we may at last look forward to the dawning of a new day. But, my friends, it will be a day of work. So I ask you: have you yet the strength to stand?”

Those bowed before him lifted their heads. Hien moved to kneel down before a young girl. She lifted her face cautiously, meeting his gaze. He favored her with a soft smile and spoke gently. “To rise up with me once more, here and now, and begin to rebuild our homeland?” he asked the crowd. The girl nodded and the crowd rose to its feet, cheering and clapping all the while.

Meanwhile, to the rear, the Scions stood watching on.

“This will not end with Doma. We will see to that. Right, Lyse?” Alisaie asked.

“Right!” Lyse agreed with a nod.

“Indeed, this is but the beginning,” Alphinaud promised. “The tide is turning, and it shall soon bear us back across the seas, and onward unto the next battlefield.”

And, with that, the Scions made their way out of the Doman enclave, leaving Hien to pick up the pieces of his nation and rebuild it anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next week, we'll get through the first bit of the liberation of Ala Mhigo. I currently plan to wrap up Stormblood proper within the next three chapters and then cover the final arc in another chapter or two. The rest will be building up towards Shadowbringers.
> 
> The weather is getting bad here where I live so I might lose a few days writing if the power goes out. We're under winter storm warnings and the roads are icing over badly enough that we're working from home for the next week. Hopefully I'll be all right but if I lose days, I'll try to let you know about it so that the delay won't be a surprise.


	60. Dark Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an interlude before we move into the stuff that happens after Stormblood proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing in FFXIV. I'm just playing around in Square Enix's universe.

T’lorna watched Noah exploring their new home and smiled. In the months since she had returned from the Far East, much had happened and she was glad of this time of quiet to spend with her son. Anything that gave her time to rest and to learn to build things instead of destroying them was welcome in her books.

Noah waved at her from his swing set and then continued his attempts to swing as high as he could while she turned her attention back to the cloth in her hands. It was bright red, nearly scarlet, and would make a good coat for Noah when she finished it.

Red. Like the blood that had spurted out of Zenos’s neck when he sliced his own throat.

She shuddered, trying to shove the memories away. Bad enough that they woke her in the night screaming so that Noah would spend hours trying to comfort her in his little boy way. She would not allow them to creep up on her unawares while she was awake and trying to enjoy a peaceful afternoon with her son. She would not.

A knock at the front door drew her attention. Noah jumped from his swing, landing lightly on his feet, and raced past her trying to get to the front door first. She laughed to herself knowing that there was no way he could open the door since the upper locks were four feet over his head. Hurrying behind him, though, she threw her head back and laughed at the look on his face when he could not open the door. He looked utterly betrayed at the fact that he could jump up and pull down the handle but not tug the door open.

“It not open, Mama. It broke,” he grunted.

“It’s locked,” she chuckled as she reached up and undid the latch. The door flew open and she saw the Leveilleur twins standing on the porch. “Welcome to my home,” she said warmly as she stepped aside to let them in. “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you,” she added, glancing at Alisaie. “How is Y’shtola?”

“She is faring much better,” Alisaie replied. “And I see that you have come up in the world.”

“Apparently I have income from being an adopted daughter of a great Ishgardian house,” T’lorna said as she gestured to the house around her, “and the Elder Seedseer along with the rest of the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance decided that I had earned the right to a home of my own where I wanted and I decided on the Lavender Beds.”

“Everyone needs a place to call home,” Alphinaud said with wide eyes as he studied the space.

“I give you tour!” Noah said loudly.

“I’ll help,” T’lorna grinned. “This is the entry way. Over there is the dining room. The main room is there,” she pointed to the left. “The kitchen is in the back. Downstairs are our bedrooms and the bathroom. Upstairs is a small attic I’ve turned into my lab.”

“You have a very Allagan theme going with your furniture and décor,” Alphinaud observed.

“Much of it comes from the Sons of Saint Coinach and the rest of the members of NOAH at the Crystal Tower,” T’lorna explained. “The rest comes from Orbie’s help.”

“Orbie? I thought that was just to teach Noah what he needed to know.”

“Orbie also has a wealth of information on basic Allagan designs. We’ve learned much about the beginnings of aetherochemistry from Orbie’s base of knowledge. I may write a book about it.”

“This my room,” Noah announced as he led them down the stairs. “It a mess.” He said as he gestured at his various toys scattered around the room.

“I’ve seen worse,” Alisaie said with a suppressed grin. Alphinaud’s cheeks flamed scarlet at the comment.

“He did used to think that his clothing would just put itself in the hamper,” T’lorna chuckled. “However, he has gotten much better about that.”

Going back upstairs, they walked out the backdoor into the yard where Noah immediately climbed back on his swing and set about his self-appointed task while T’lorna settled the twins onto the cushioned swing and then poured them each tall glasses of iced tea before taking up her own seat and setting aside the sewing she had been doing in favor of a pair of knitting needles.

“I see you have spent these past few weeks teaching yourself much in the way of crafting,” Alphinaud said.

“Yes,” T’lorna nodded as she settled into the task of knitting. The soothing clack-clack of the needles against each other helped to relax her. “It’s nice to make things instead of destroying them. And I am hoping that this is a _social_ visit instead of a way to call me back to the battlefield,” she added, arching an eyebrow and fixing Alphinaud with a flat glare.

“It is purely social,” Alisaie said quickly. “We’ve heard nothing to indicate that you are needed though Cid and Nero did say that they would love to have you help them explore this strange phenomenon in the crater that the Omega Weapon left behind.”

“Cid called me about that yesterday,” T’lorna said. “I have told him I would come by in a few weeks to explore it with him. Some of my friends from the Alliance of Kings are interested in learning more about Allagan technology.”

“Everyone is interested in learning more about Allagan technology,” Alphinaud muttered softly. “The question is, can everyone be trusted to use it wisely?”

“That is the question to ask,” T’lorna nodded. “Noah, don’t you dare jump out at that height!” she shouted as her son leaned far forward as if to jump out of the swing. She tossed aside her knitting and stood up, making her son sigh and lean back in the swing. “You do it, and that will be the last time you get to swing on that swing for a week!” she warned him.

“Ma- _ma_!” Noah whined. “You no fun.”

“I know,” she replied. “I’m just the meanest person in the world. But I’m more fun than a broken leg would be.”

“You heal,” he argued.

“Not if it’s your own fault,” she retorted. “Just slow down and climb out normally instead of jumping when it’s too high and you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Fine,” he growled.

“If being a parent means putting up with that kind of attitude from a toddler,” Alisaie muttered when T’lorna sat back down and took up her knitting again, “then I don’t see why anyone does it.”

“Oh, it has its compensations,” T’lorna grinned. “But I don’t mind him arguing with me too much on something like this.”

“Oh?”

“It means he’s developing his own mind instead of just blindly obeying me. It’s good for him to question things so long as he accepts my explanations when my orders are to keep him safe and healthy. It’s only when he’s being a brat that it annoys me.”

“I wonder what his father would think of your style of parenting,” Alisaie grinned.

“According to G’wain and G’alia, G’raha would be only slightly stricter,” T’lorna replied. “He, too, believed in allowing some freedom and questioning.”

~*~*~*~

That evening, after a supper in which Noah demonstrated his ability to get mashed potatoes everywhere except in his mouth, T’lorna relaxed as she readied herself for bed. The twins were tucked in on the hide-away bed in the couch upstairs and Noah, cleaned up despite his protests that he did not need another bath since he had one yesterday, was sleeping soundly in his own room just a few yalms away. He was curled up around his daddy doll and dreaming blissfully of his own little adventures in their new home.

“Please,” T’lorna prayed as she pulled her nightgown over her head and smoothed it down her hips, “please let tonight be without dreams. Let my son at least have one night this week without my screams waking him up.”

Climbing into the large bed that was hers and hers alone, T’lorna snuggled into her pillow and pulled the sheets up over her head, praying that this night the dreams would not come.

Her prayers were in vain.

The dream started as it always did – with Raha locking himself away in the Crystal Tower. Only this time there was no letter from him to comfort her after. There was only the nagging fear that he had done so to get away from her. Next came the Bloody Banquet only this time she watched in horror as black tendrils coursed through Nanamo’s veins and the poison made her skin rot from her skull, leaving a bloody mess on the floor. After that she watched in horror as Y’shtola’s spell misfired and she, Thancred, and Minfilia were ripped apart and smashed by falling boulders. Then Haurchefant was laying in her arms, blood trickling out of his mouth and his stomach torn open by the attack that had been aimed at her. Urianger betrayed her in the dream, turning her over to the Warriors of Darkness who, upon learning that she had a son, sought him out and showed him that she could not protect him.

“Not my baby!” she screamed as she watched them beat him nearly to death. “Hurt me and not my son!”

She held Noah’s bruised and battered little body in her arms and he glared at her in anger, his gaze demanding to know why she had allowed him to be hurt. She watched as her own mother and father took him away from her, telling her she was not fit to be a mother. Even Raha’s parents spat on her, angrily demanding to know how their son could have mated with someone so unworthy to bear the lineage of ancient Allag.

Then came the images of Ilberd. Only this time, his attack killed Lyse, M’naago, and Papalymo. Only T’lorna survived. She watched in horror as the Garleans beat back the Ala Mhigan Resistance, killing Pippin and Raubahn, then the twins. She watched as Doma Castle collapsed, killing Hien, Yugiri, and Gosetsu. Finally Zenos captured Noah and killed him in front of her eyes before slitting his own throat, preventing her from getting revenge.

“Wake up, T’lorna!” she heard Alphinaud shouting from a distance. “Wake up!”

She sat bolt upright, a scream forming in her throat. With difficulty, she swallowed it down and managed to curl up in a ball, her face buried in her knees, as she wept. She could feel Noah patting her on the arm and hear him saying “It just dream, Mama. It okay. You okay. Just dream.”

With a shuddering sob, she unfolded herself and gathered her son in her arms, clutching him to her shoulder while she buried her face in his hair and inhaled his clean, warm, living scent. He smelled of spice, much like his father, and dirt underneath the rose and lavender-scented soap she favored. She felt his little arms wrap securely around her neck and his face press against her chest as he continued to mumble that it was “just dream.”

“I know, baby,” she hiccoughed. “I know it was just a dream.”

“How long have you been having these nightmares?” Alisaie asked. She could feel the younger woman’s hand on her back, stroking gently up and down her spine.

“Yes, how long?” she heard Alphinaud ask from her other side. She could feel his hand on the top of her head and sense that he was using his healing magic to probe her for injury.

“Ever since… ever since the battle for Ala Mhigo,” T’lorna said with a sob. “I cannot get the sights out of my mind. My failures. So many. I have let so many down…”

“Nonsense,” Alisaie started to say but T’lorna spoke right over her.

“First G’raha then Nanamo and Haurchefant. Y’shtola and Thancred. Lyse and Papalymo. You two. Hien. And my-myself,” she wept. “I should have stopped him. I should have found a way to heal his madness. He need not have slit his throat in front of us all,” she shuddered. “He called me his only friend. What kind of ‘friend’ lets someone kill himself!”

“He was insane,” Alisaie protested. “He didn’t know what a friend was. He thought his best enemy was his friend…”

“Alisaie,” Alphinaud muttered. “My friend,” he sighed, turning T’lorna’s face up so she met his gaze, “Zenos was beyond your help.”

“But it will mean war!” T’lorna shuddered as she held her son more tightly against her. “His father will demand blood to repay Zenos’s death! What parent wouldn’t seek vengeance for the loss of their own?”

Alphinaud glanced at his sister and the twins appeared to share their thoughts. Finally, he sighed and said tonelessly, “We weren’t certain if we should bother you with this but… Zenos’s grave is empty.”

“How could it be?” T’lorna hiccoughed. “I was there when we buried him. I said prayers for his poor soul as we laid him to rest as best we could.”

“Well, someone has made off with his body,” Alphinaud muttered. “Whether it is Garlean loyalists out to show that Zenos died or something more sinister, we do not yet know. However, rumors of Zenos being alive and well have begun to reach us. Thancred suspects that an Ascian has made use of the corpse.”

“An Ascian?” T’lorna said, suddenly coldly calm.

“Yes. We did not want to bother you with this news until we knew more,” Alisaie explained. “After all, there is no need to call you back to duty for a mere rumor. We all wanted to give you more time to enjoy the quiet and to play with Noah. Come. Tell us of these dreams that so disturb your rest. Perhaps by putting words to them, you will free yourself from their grip.”

T’lorna considered his words for a long moment and then shook her head as she slowly loosened her grip on her son. There was no way she could confide her deepest fears upon either of these youths. They were just barely out of childhood. How could she tell either of them of the pain she felt when she saw her son threatened? Or heard her parents and in-laws tell her she was unworthy of being a mother at all? They were far too young to understand such things.

“I cannot speak of them,” she sighed.

“Then sit you here for a moment,” Alphinaud muttered as he rose from the bed and hurried up the stairs. She heard him moving about the kitchen. Meanwhile, she sang softly to Noah and felt his grip growing slack as he lapsed back into sleep. With a gesture to Alisaie, T’lorna got the other woman out of her bed and turned to deposit her son on the other side of the bed, tucking the blankets up around him as he cuddled into his pillow and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Alisaie grinned and then dashed out of the room, returning with Noah’s daddy doll. T’lorna smiled softly as she took it from the young Elezen and tucked it under her son’s arm.

Moments later, Alphinaud returned with a steaming mug that gave off a sour scent. T’lorna winced as he handed it to her.

“A sleeping draught,” he explained. “It tastes worse than it smells. A sound reminder to do something that does not require you to rely upon it. It will put you into a deep, dreamless sleep.”

“I see,” T’lorna sighed as she took a deep breath and then quaffed it in a few gulps. She barely had time to hand the mug back to Alphinaud before the potion took effect and sleep rolled her under.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, T’lorna woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. She stretched and reached out for Noah, opening her eyes when she felt only empty sheets in the bed next to her. Rising, she threw on a robe and hurried up the stairs to the kitchen to see where her son was. She had to swallow a laugh at what she saw.

Noah was standing on one of the chairs that one of the twins had pulled up near the stove. Alphinaud was next to him, explaining something about the two pans of bacon he had frying while Alisaie was digging through the larder. Noah stared at his adopted uncle with his ruby eyes as wide as they would go, drinking in whatever ‘Unca Alphie’ was telling him as if the knowledge was key to understanding how the world itself worked.

Alisaie was the first to notice her when the young Elezen woman finally pulled herself out of the larder and stood up, a bowl filled with tomatoes and eggs in one hand.

“We had hoped to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” Alisaie said with a wry grin, “but I suppose that the smell of bacon cooking roused you better than any alarum.”

“It’s rare that I wake up to the smell of food being cooked,” T’lorna said dryly as she settled in at the table and accepted a mug of tea from Alisaie. Noah bounded out of his chair and over to her, climbing up in her lap and hugging her. “I’m okay, baby,” she murmured to him, knowing that he was still worried about her. “Uncle Alphie’s potion helped me.”

“Uncle Alphinaud will be happy to leave more of it and the recipe for it if you’d like,” Alphinaud said as he continued to turn the bacon over in the two pans. Next to him, Alisaie was cracking open eggs into a large mixing bowl. Clearly they were going to have scrambled eggs for breakfast.

T’lorna leaned back in her chair and began humming softly to her son, closing her eyes and enjoying the first morning in a long time when someone else was in charge of getting breakfast made and looking after her son while she got to relax. Idly, she wondered if this would be a typical morning for her if Raha had not locked himself away in the Crystal Tower.

Soon the four were each enjoying their meals, T’lorna helping and being helped by Noah to eat. She couldn’t help but grin at the way he shoved bacon into both her mouth and his own or how happy he was when he finally gave up trying to use the fork to get his eggs and settled for using his hands.

“While this is a social visit,” Alphinaud said as he gathered up the dishes and began to pile them in the sink, “Lyse did want us to ask you if you would come to attend the first meeting of the various leaders of Ala Mhigo. She thinks that having the woman who found the Mad King’s treasure trove attend would be a good omen.”

“When will this meeting take place?” T’lorna asked. “If I have a few more days to prepare, then I will attend. But if it’s tomorrow, forget it.”

“Next week. The first day of the full moon,” Alphinaud replied. “So, six days from today.”

“Tell her I’ll be there. After we take care of that, I’ll go see what Cid needs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a day late but I had to scrap everything I had written and redo this chapter yesterday and today. I was trying to finish up the events of Stormblood but it was feeling more and more forced. So, I decided to just skip it and focus on the aftermath. I also wanted to show that T'lorna is learning more than just how to fight -- she's learning how to build things. And, I wanted to talk about the house I hope to get one day. :)
> 
> So far the next chapter seems to be flowing better so it should be on time.

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a while since I wrote anything -- let alone fanfic. I'm hoping that this isn't too terrible. I will try to post a chapter each week provided I can find time to write.


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